


Keep me where the light is

by frenchkiss



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Homophobia, M/M, Magic, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Murder Mystery, Panic Attacks, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-04-22 13:51:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 198,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4837628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frenchkiss/pseuds/frenchkiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A post-Hogwarts era AU featuring a wedding, a fake relationship, lots of sex, a cat named Hermione, a string of terrifying murders, and two young Aurors who are about to embark on a case that will change their lives (and the lives of the ones they love) forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lumos

**Author's Note:**

> hello friends we meet again
> 
> welcome to the longest thing i've ever written! it's a Harry Potter AU (if you couldn't already tell from the tags) and it's been in the works since about February, so if you follow me on tumblr you'll probably have heard me whining about it for a long time. It's going to be ten chapters long in total, and I'm going to update every weekend. Most of it's completely written, so it won't be one of those fics where you don't know when the next chapter will be gracing you (pointedly doesn't mention own WIP as an example).
> 
> okay now the boring stuff: this fic contains some pretty heavy themes - there's a character who suffers panic attacks, a character who suffers with depression, there's a character who goes around committing murders, and there's several incidences of people lying to loved ones. if any of these themes make you uncomfortable then do not read!!! i'll tag each chapter with individual trigger warnings for your reading pleasure, and if you want to keep reading but you don't want to read a particular bit then message me on tumblr and I'll give you a summary!
> 
> i don't own one direction or little mix or harry potter and all of this is complete fiction!!!! obviously.
> 
> also as I am not J.K. Rowling (shame, that) I have had to create some of my own spells, but i stayed true to the HP world wherever I could!
> 
> that's all for now! all the love, E x

Louis Tomlinson of number four, Ollerton’s Nook, was proud to say he was perfectly normal, thank you very much.

And he is, really. Akin with his Muggle upbringing, he loves the BBC Radio One Breakfast Show, he loves getting the Tube around London for no reason at all and he loves homemade apple crumble and custard on Sunday evenings. He’s very fond of these little Muggle traditions that he keeps nestled away in his now rather different life and he holds them very dear to him.

Harry’s convinced he only listens to the Breakfast Show because he has a not-so-secret crush on the presenter. While that is absolutely _not true_ (and part of why he listens to it religiously has nothing to do with adding to how touchy-feely Harry can be in the mornings) he enjoys this little bridge back to Muggle normality. Hearing Muggle news and having something to talk to Lottie about is important, of course, but so is having a nice little reminder of the world he came from before he goes off to do Wizarding things. It’s a morning routine he has no intention of breaking any time soon, that’s for sure.

The same goes for the Tube. People on the Tube are off to their typical Muggle jobs – from office workers to lawyers to teachers to shopkeepers and as far as he’s concerned it’s absolutely _fascinating_. Louis often thinks that if he hadn’t turned out to be a wizard he’d have liked to get a job in central London just so he could have a blissful few hours of people watching every morning. He likes to assign people back stories, thinking about what kind of life they lead without magic. He’s more curious than anything and it’s something he often wonders about, a nice private train of thought he likes to ride every now and then.

Not that Harry doesn’t come with him sometimes, but there have been times when he’s had to physically clap a hand over his stupid big mouth because he’s not exactly quiet or subtle and once accidentally asked a bloke reading on his iPad how he got it so bright without a spell. _Honestly._

It was around that time that Louis invested in a TV, after he decided that the world he loves the most and the boy he loves the most need to get a little better acquainted. It turned out to be an _excellent_ investment, because not only did Harry find Muggle shows hilarious and Muggle music videos completely fascinating, his new penchant for cooking programmes comes alive on Louis’s table nearly every night – pastas, curries, vibrant puddings and cakes and pastries, and a roast dinner every Sunday; Harry doing something different that he thinks Louis might like each time. Harry’s currently completely hooked on the latest series of Great British Bake Off and Louis loves nothing more than curling up against Harry’s chest with a bowl of something baked and smothered in custard to end the week. It’s their little tradition now.

There are, however, some incredible perks to being a wizard and Louis can see none better than the fact that he gets to wake up every morning next to the love of his life, who he wouldn’t have met were it not for the Hogwarts letter that dropped unceremoniously down his chimney and turned his and his mother’s world on its head. His best friends too – he can’t imagine a better partner in crime than Zayn, the at-first shy boy he ended up getting paired with on his first day back after his awkward year out.

(He’ll never forget the heartbreak in his mother’s voice the day she told him she couldn’t afford to send him back for the next year, but after a letter exchange with Professor McGonagall she had agreed to take him back the year later, so in the meantime his mother could try to get a better job and he could watch the girls during the day. He worked out for the best in the end, despite it feeling like the most humiliating thing in the world at the time.)

So he fell in love with magic at eleven (okay, so maybe his life’s not as normal as it could be), fell in love with his boy at seventeen, and fell in love with their little cottage home when he was nineteen and his boy was finally done with school too. He remembers Harry’s last year at Hogwarts and the nearly unbearable forced separation between them as he worked pulling pints at the Three Broomsticks during the day and Floo’ing back to Doncaster at night. He remembers painful nights without him and awkward nights with him in his cramped little single bed, waking up tangled in gangly limbs even more than he does now and drenched in a combination of their sweat from being pressed too close. He remembers stupid rows when he forgot to set alarms so Harry was late back to Hogwarts and hands clapped over mouths as they tried to get each other off without waking the rest of the house. It’s been a long road, hard at times, but he’s here and he’s still as in love with his boy as he was when he was seventeen.

And now here he is, twenty four years old, a wizard – a relatively newly qualified Auror, even - and now he has a bruise on his chin because his bloody boyfriend just head-butted him in his sleep.

“ _Harold,”_ he hisses, voice still heavy with sleep. Harry snuffles and his grip on Louis tightens, pulling him closer as if on instinct and burying his sleepy face into Louis’s sweaty hair. “Harry, gerrof me!”

“Don’t wanna,” Harry mumbles, speech slurred. “Cuddle back, meanie.”

Louis sighs like it’s a chore but lets himself sag against Harry’s warm skin, pressing a little kiss into one of his collarbones. Harry, in turn, lets out a happy sigh and mumbles something that sounds like good morning but could be anything, really.

“Good morning,” he mumbles back anyway, hands stroking up Harry’s slightly sweat-damp back and breathing in his favourite familiar scent. “Sleep well?”

He feels Harry nod into his hair. “Always sleep well with you,” he says, then pulls back to smile at Louis dopily. Louis shakes his head and kisses his nose.

“Glad to hear it,” he says happily. “What time is it, sunshine?”

Harry groans dramatically but leans back a little, blindly fumbling for his watch on the bedside table. He snags it up and brings his arm back, blinking at it sleepily. “Half seven, just,” he says with a little yawn. “Not in work ‘til ten so I can cuddle for at least another half an hour.”

“I like me the sound of that,” Louis says. He reaches for the corner of the duvet and pulls it up over their shoulders, cocooning them in a comfy warmth. “Anything happening at work today? You got any specific procedures or anything?”

Harry shakes his head so his long hair spreads along the pillow like a fluffy blanket. “Not today. Later this week we’ve got to perform a Replacement Spell on an older witch’s liver but aside from that I think this week I’m down in Emergency Spells.”

Louis nods, running his fingers slowly through Harry’s messy fringe. “Sounds like you’re in for a hectic few days.”

Harry shrugs. “I mean, three days in a row down in Emergency Spells isn’t my _favourite_ but we’re short-staffed now Jesy’s on maternity leave. I don’t mind.”

“You just want to get in Jesy’s good books so you’ll be allowed to babysit,” Louis teases. Harry doesn’t even blush, just sticks his tongue out playfully and Louis flicks at it. Harry catches his wrist and pouts at him dramatically so Louis presses a gentle kiss onto his jaw and slides his wrist down to tangle their hands together instead.

“It’s exciting though,” Harry says, half in awe and half indignant. “One of our best friends had a baby, Lou, a _baby_. We’re getting so grown up.”

“Speak for yourself, my little baby boyfriend,” Louis snorts. “Practically dating a child, I am.”

Harry pouts even harder. “He says as if he didn’t have to repeat a year of Hogwarts. Cradle snatcher. Do you know I’ve been dating you nearly a third of my life?”

Louis raises his eyebrows. “Has it been that long?” He tuts. “Better trade you in soon, maybe find someone who doesn’t hog the bloody duvet as much.”

“Lou!” Harry whines and Louis shakes his head, giggling as he presses himself closer into Harry’s arms. He peppers little kisses across Harry’s bare chest and looks up at him as he sinks his teeth into one of his collarbones.

“One who whines less too,” he muses, cackling as Harry pushes him away and folds his arms across his chest.  “Oh, babe, don’t be like that.”

“I just want my Monday morning cuddle,” Harry scowls. “You always ruin my Monday morning cuddle; you’re such a terri-“

Louis cuts him off by surging forward, hand fisting in Harry’s hair to pull him forward so they can kiss properly. Morning breath is a little gross but Louis presses his tongue in between Harry’s lips and licks them open, uncaring. It’s not like it’s the first time they’ve kissed like this anyway. Eventually, Harry’s crossed arms drop and Louis smiles as one comes to drape across his waist and the other cups his cheek, pulling them closer.

When they pull apart for air, Louis wipes his mouth on the duvet and gives him a look. “Happy?”

Harry snorts, using his own thumb to wipe at the corner of his lips. “Better. I mean, it was hardly a cuddle, but…”

“Oh my _Godric,”_ Louis says exasperatedly. “Come here, you.”

Harry positively beams as Louis cuddles him back in, petting at his hair and pressing his nose into Harry’s temple, bodies pressed as close together as they can be. “Better,” he mumbles and Louis snorts, taking a deep inhale of Harry’s wonderful homey scent as he nuzzles closer.

“Love you,” he mumbles, because suddenly he doesn’t want to be playful anymore – he just wants to hold his boy and cocoon himself in a nest of blankets and stay there forever, his second week of work be damned. “My little baby boyfriend.”

“Love you more,” Harry sighs out, hands tightening over Louis’s. “Thank you.”

“Always a pleasure,” Louis replies, kissing at his curls. “Hair’s soft today.”

“Mmmm,” Harry hums. “Used that new potion on it last night. It’s supposed to make the curls bounce even more.”

Louis laughs, tousling it a little. “Wish you didn’t have to tie it up for work so much. I love it this length.”

Harry purrs as Louis’s nimble fingers scratch at his scalp. “Don’t really have a choice though, do I?” His eyes go wide suddenly. “Shit, what time are you in?”

“Half nine, don’t worry,” Louis says, his fingers still moving through Harry’s curls. “Want me to make you breakfast?”

“Please,” Harry nods. “Just five more minutes though.”

Seven minutes later Louis reluctantly lets Harry out of his hold, where he traipses naked towards the shower. Louis watches him (and his arse) disappear into their creaky hallway and down the landing to their little bathroom. He stays propped up against the pillows for a little longer before he too gets up, heading over to his side of the wardrobe to get dressed.

Ten minutes after that, he’s downstairs and toasting bread under their grill for Harry’s breakfast. He munches his own toast, spread thickly with butter and jam, as he potters around, locating the Nutella (“sometimes I can’t work out if my favourite thing from the Muggle world is you or Nutella,” Harry has often said) and then taking a banana from their fruit bowl. He chops it into slices and then reaches for his wand to guide the bread out from under the grill and onto a plate.

He’s just arranging the banana into a smiley face on each piece of toast (he really is dating a child) when Harry shuffles into the kitchen, barefoot and shirtless. His hair is scraped into a tight little bun, little curls decorating the back of his neck, and he’s humming to himself in a way that makes Louis roll his eyes so he doesn’t explode with fond.

“This for me?” Harry asks, pointing to the plate of toast with a happy little grin, his tongue pressed against his teeth.

“Obviously,” Louis says through a mouthful of his own toast. “Don’t see anyone else around who would eat that disgusting paste.”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “It’s a beautiful foodstuff. One of the best things Muggles ever came out with.”

Louis sighs. “Yes, I _know.”_

Harry crunches through his slice merrily and Louis sighs, directing his own empty plate to the sink with a flick of his wand. He then reaches for his mug of tea, blowing on it and watching the liquid ripple against the rim of the mug. He brings it to his lips and takes a sip as Harry starts to say something he can’t quite make out through a mouthful of half-masticated banana.

“Sorry, love?”

Harry chews hurriedly and then swallows. “I _said_ what does your day involve?”

Louis shrugs. “Dunno yet. Probably just going to be pissing about with Zayn for the most part. Nothing big happening at the moment and anyway, we’re bottom of the pile, aren’t we?”

Harry looks sad. “Does it feel like that, really? Lou, I’m…”

Louis raises an eyebrow. “Are you not listening to me? I get to piss around with Zayn as a job. Nineteen galleons an hour to piss about with my best mate,” he cuts in, setting his mug on the counter. “I like it very much a lot so far.”

Harry shakes his head. “Well, alright then. Good to know all that training is going to good use.”

Louis just shrugs, a little grin playing on his lips as he reaches for his wand again. He walks over to Harry and gently holds it against his neck, murmuring “ _Aufero Macula”_ and watching the love bite that’s standing out starkly against the pale skin of Harry’s neck shrink into itself and disappear.

“I liked that,” Harry whines, pouting at Louis. “It was one of your best.”

“Not very professional though, is it, little darling?” Louis says, bouncing up on his tiptoes and pressing his lips onto Harry’s quickly. “Eat up, love, you need to go soon.”

Harry eats the rest of his toast obediently and Louis trots off to find the top half of Harry’s uniform from their little laundry room.  He hears Harry’s bare feet slap up the stairs again as he’s rifling through a pile of fresh laundry for it and then the clang of the pipes as the taps are turned on. On locating it, he walks back through to the kitchen and sets it on the table, then trots to the back door to do his absolute least favourite task of a morning.

“Hermione!” he calls, already feeling a blush creeping up his neck as one of their Muggle neighbours walks past, brows raised in amusement. He offers them a little wave and mentally curses his boyfriend’s terrible taste in names. “Hermione, come on girl!”

It’s not long before he spots their ginger tab trotting up the path, both head and tail raised high. She hops past Louis (they’re not quite on the same level of friendship as her and Harry are) and into the kitchen, mewling expectantly as she circles a table leg.

Louis sighs, bending down to pick up their post then goes back into the kitchen to feed the cat. He tosses the letters onto the table, barely glancing at what’s on the cover of the Daily Prophet, and then rummages around in the bottom of their cupboard for a sachet of cat food. He’s just pouring it into Hermione’s bowl when Harry returns, where he rests a lingering hand onto Louis’s hip as he reaches past him to get to his scrub top.

“Thank you,” he says as he slides it over his head. He reaches down to scratch at Hermione’s ears, who promptly ignores him and just keeps rubbing herself up Louis’s leg excitedly. “You gonna be home for half five?”

“Can’t see any reason why I wouldn’t be,” Louis says as he puts down the bowl of cat food. He heads to the sink to fill up Hermione’s water bowl. “Why? What are your dinner plans, babe?”

“Thought I would… I would bake a… a pie,” Harry says slowly, turning his focus away from Louis and the cat with eyes trained on the Daily Prophet on the table. “Well, fuck me.”

“Babe?” Louis asks after a pause, drying his hands on a towel before shuffling over. “Babe, everything okay?”

Harry picks the newspaper up, unfolding it so he can read it properly. “Lou,” he says quietly, his voice laced with concern. “Lou, someone’s died.”

“Someone who?” Louis questions. He instinctively tucks himself closer to Harry, hooking his chin around his shoulder so he can read the paper too. Harry’s staring at the obituaries on the back page, a deep frown etched onto his face as he reads over his shoulders. “Evangeline Carter?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I… my mum goes for coffee with her quite a lot. Gemma was in the same year as Beth Carter at Hogwarts, and I used to babysit Alfie when I was home during the summer. He’s only ten, bloody hell.” He lets out a gloomy sigh. “That’s so sad, Lou, they think it was suspicious according to this.”

“That is sad,” Louis agrees. He presses his lips into the top of Harry’s arm. “You okay, baby?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry assures. He turns his face towards Louis and presses his face into Louis’s hair, leaving a gentle kiss on the top of his head. “Yeah, just a bit weird when there’s a connection, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Louis agrees. He squeezes an arm around Harry’s waist, holding him close. “Do you wanna write your mum a quick Owl or something?”

“Nah, it’s alright,” Harry says. He pulls a face as he folds the newspaper back up, dropping it back on the table before he turns around to hug Louis properly. “Just makes you think, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Louis says again dumbly. He holds him tightly, pressing a few gentle kisses into his neck and rubbing a soothing hand up and down his back. “You big old softie, you.”

Harry huffs a little laugh, pulling back reluctantly but keeping a lingering hand on Louis’s waist. “I know, I know. I just… the idea of someone being without their loved one makes me so sad, you know?”

“I do know, babe,” Louis says. “Maybe do send your mum an Owl tonight, yeah? It might make you feel a bit better.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Harry mumbles. He sniffs a little and shakes his head. “Yeah, I will,” he says after a few seconds. “I wanna make sure the family is doing okay.”

“Of course, baby, of course,” Louis says. He bounces up on his tiptoes to press a quick kiss onto Harry’s mouth. “Hey, can you wait like five minutes for me to clean my teeth and do my fringe? Then I’ll Floo with you.”

“Yeah, sure,” Harry says, offering him a little smile. “Be quick, yeah?”

Louis nods, patting his hip before he disappears upstairs. He’s ready to go only a few minutes later, teeth brushed and fringe styled with his briefcase (that doesn’t hold much apart from a nice quill that Zayn bought him for his birthday one year and a few stacks on parchment with various scribblings) in hand. Harry’s already got the pot of Floo in his hand, which he holds out for Louis to take his own handful of. He steps into the fireplace first and clears his throat.

“The Ministry of Magic,” he says in a crisp voice, and then he finds himself shooting through a tunnel of green light that he’s still never gotten used to. When he gets there, he stumbles out as gracefully as he can and straightens his jumper, running a hand through his hair while he stands and waits for Harry, who appears a couple of moments later.

“You okay?” he asks, like he does every time because he knows how much Louis hates it. Louis chuckles and nods, taking Harry’s hand in his where he leads him into the giant atrium that separates all parts of the Ministry.

Harry’s needs to walk through the Ministry and out to Muggle London to get to his own job in St. Mungo’s but he always insists on Floo’ing with Louis and then walking it, so they walk hand in hand through the throng of people until they reach the entrance to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. They tuck into the side, away from the hustle and bustle, and Louis brings up his fingers to trace softly down Harry’s cheek.

“You go save lives,” Louis tells him, squeezing his hand as they share a quick parting kiss.

“You too,” Harry grins. “Love you!”

“Love you too!” Louis calls after him, then pushes through the doorway and traipses down the corridor to the Auror Office.

“Oi, Tomlinson, you’re two and a half minutes late!” Zayn shouts at him, shooting him an almost convincing unimpressed look over the top of his desk. Louis just grins, setting his briefcase down and flopping down into his chair.

“Sorry,” he says airily. “I guess the pull of Harry’s mouth was just more appealing than spending the day staring at your sorry mug.”

“Excuse you,” Zayn shoots back. “We both know you spend all your time staring at that fucking photo of Harry on your desk; you barely look at your work, let alone me. Also you totally didn’t have sex this morning.”

Louis pretends to gasp. “How dare you accuse me of lying?”

“It’s a Monday,” Zayn says with an eye roll. “You can barely function on Mondays at the best of times, let alone wake yourself up for morning sex. Honestly.”

“Who said anything about sex?” Louis asks with raised eyebrows. “He’s just a very nice kisser.”

“You two are _foul,_ ” Zayn informs him. “The Louis I met in fourth year would never have said anything like that. We need to get you out on the piss.”

“What, so I can pull?”

“No, so I can,” Zayn crows exasperatedly. “And you can wingman me but then leave me without fuss to go home to Harry’s mouth while I get blown in the loos.”

“Gross,” Louis says with a wrinkle of his nose.

Zayn sighs. “You see what you’ve reduced me to, Louis? I need companionship!”

“Getting someone to blow you in a club is hardly companionship,” Louis points out.

“Well, with a best mate like you, I’ll take what I can get,” Zayn grumbles.

“You’re such a wanker,” Louis replies haughtily. “Come on, stop your incessant and quite frankly embarrassing whining and let’s go get tea. I’m going to need it if we’re spending the day…” He pauses, then moves his briefcase to the floor so he can look at the stack of papers on his desk and groans, “spending the day looking at the arrests of Dark Wizards for petty theft and broom fines between 1970 and 2000.”

“What a life we lead,” Zayn agrees, standing up and brushing down his jumper. “Coffee and a smoke if we can squeeze one in? I think we’ve got about fifteen minutes before Cowell gets here.”

“Brilliant,” Louis says with a nod, standing up and grabbing his briefcase where he digs around for his cigarettes. “Let’s go.”

They head out into the corridor, greeting their co-workers as they go with quick waves and nods. The break room is right down the end of the corridor, past the entrance to the rest of the sub-divisions of their department, so they walk down what feels like the impossibly long corridor bantering between them. Louis’s just reaching out to tweak one of Zayn’s nipples when the door to another department opens and the pair of them nearly collides with a rather familiar face.

“Watch where you’re going!” Liam Payne snaps, jumping out the way with rather unnecessary dramatics, at least in Louis’s opinion.

“Sorry,” Louis says cheerily, not really that sorry. He wraps an arm around Zayn’s shoulders instead, revelling in the way Liam’s cheeks redden as him and Zayn make eye contact. “We’ll be a lot more careful next time, promise.”

“No, you won’t,” Liam grumbles, then goes even redder in the face. “Um, hi Zayn.”

“Hi, Liam,” Zayn mutters. Louis doesn’t need to see his face to know he’s probably pink in the cheeks as well. “Sorry about this twat.”

“You’re fine,” Liam stammers, shaking his head rather wildly. “Um, okay, um, bye Zayn.”

“Bye!” Louis calls cheerily after he scuttles off, then turns his head to laugh in Zayn’s shoulder. “This is so funny.”

“The poor lad,” Zayn says, unwinding Louis’s arms from around him indignantly. “Honestly, you’re such a dick to him.”

“Yeah, well,” Louis says with a shrug, “perhaps if you two would stop fucking dancing around each other then I wouldn’t be.”

“I’m not doing any fucking dancing,” Zayn scowls, shouldering open the door to the break room. “It’s not my fault he’s fancied me for years.”

“Yes, it is,” Louis retorts. “It’s those fucking cheekbones of yours.”

“Like I can help my face, Lou,” Zayn sighs, like it’s an argument he’s had to deal with many a time. He sidles over to the kettle and flicks it on, leaning against the table. “It’s been, like, five years. Like, surely he should have twigged that I’m not interested yet?”

“Why not though?” Louis asks, dropping a teabag into his mug. He hands the jar of instant coffee to Zayn. “He’s almost fit now. He’s got a good set of arms – I know how you feel about arms, Zee – and I bet he’s got a massive…”

“That’s enough from you,” Zayn says sharply. “He’s a nice lad, but I don’t… he’s too nicey nicey? Too weird too, like… like…”

“The fact that if you dated him you’d have to tell people your boyfriend is head of a division called the Office of Peculiar Herbs and Shrubberies?” Louis grins. Zayn sighs and nods. “Yeah, that’s enough to put me off dating anyone.”

Zayn snorts. “Yes, because that’s the only reason you wouldn’t date Liam.”

“Excuse you,” Louis says, snatching the just boiled kettle up before Zayn can reach it. “I could date Liam.”

“I’m telling Harry you said that.”

Louis waves his hand dismissively. “Harry’s always banging on about how fit this one nurse is, I’m sure he’ll survive me telling him that I think Liam Payne is vaguely fit now. Honesty is healthy in a strong relationship, Zaynie.”

Zayn snorts again. “You two are hideous. _Hideous._ ”

“Jealousy is unattractive,” Louis says. He dumps his teabag in the bin and then pulls his cigarettes out his pocket. “Smoke?”

Zayn nods, quickly heaping two teaspoons of sugar into his mug before he follows Louis out into the little smoking area attached to the break room. It’s essentially just a small courtyard with high walls hiding them completely from view, but it’s a place that Louis’s become strangely fond of in the two weeks he’s been there. There’s another wizard tucked in the corner that Louis doesn’t recognise, so after a brief and polite nod of acknowledgement he leans back against the wall and lights his cigarette with his wand, then does the same to Zayn’s.

“I can already tell today’s gonna be a long one,” he groans on his exhale, and then takes a long swig of his tea. He glances over at Zayn for a response, but his best mate offers him nothing but a little shrug, so he groans again even louder this time. “Zayn. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Zayn grumbles, blowing an indignant stream of smoke from his nose. “’m tired, is all.”

“Zayn,” Louis says again, drawing out his name in a rather patronising way. “What’s wrong, buttercup?”

“I’m telling you, it’s just tiredness,” Zayn tries, blinking at him over the rim of his mug. “I didn’t sleep very well last night.”

“Did Perrie stop over?” Louis asks, taking another drag. Zayn rolls his eyes.

“No, I fucking told you in there that I haven’t had a shag for ages,” he says exasperatedly, though there’s about as much bite to it as a sleepy kitten. “She’s…” He cuts himself off and takes a long drag of his cigarette before he shakes his head and continues. “She found someone else, like, a few weeks ago anyway.”

“Zayn…” Louis starts to say, but Zayn just shakes his head.

“It’s fine, yeah? We both knew it was best friends having sex towards the end, that’s why we broke up innit?”

“Still,” Louis says, quickly casting a spell to make his mug levitate so he can pull Zayn into a one-armed hug, “I know how much you loved her. It’s never going to be easy; I’m sorry, love.”

“Yeah, well,” Zayn shrugs, but leans into Louis’s body all the same. “It’s over for good anyway. Her new fella seems like a nice guy as well. He was the year above us at Hogwarts – your _old_ year – do you remember an Agrippa Smyth?”

Louis snorts. “That Pureblood – no offence – arsehole from Slytherin?” He wrinkles his nose. “Yeah, I know him. Good friends with your Liam, if I remember.”

Zayn’s cheeks redden. “Not my Liam. Also, yeah, him. They’re old Wizarding family friends, someone my family never really mixed with.”

“Don’t blame ‘em,” Louis says, his eyebrows shooting up as he takes another drag of his cigarette. “They seem super opposed to Muggleborns and stuff. Doesn’t make them very likeable people.”

Zayn shrugs. “Yeah, I know. I mean, Perrie’s a smart girl, I just hope he’s not a dick to her about having Muggleborn friends and stuff.”

Louis snorts. “Perrie and Agrippa, man. What a pair of names to go together.”

“I know right,” Zayn chuckles, taking one final inhale and dropping the butt of his fag into one of the ashtrays, where it disintegrates with a hiss. “Bless her. I hope he makes her happy.”

“Oh, babe,” Louis says, pressing himself up on tiptoes so he can kiss Zayn’s temple. “You’ll find someone, yeah? It’s only a matter of time. You’re beautiful, and you’re smart, and you’re a darling friend.”

“I know,” Zayn grumbles, though he’s smiling as he says it. He sighs. “Thanks, Lou.”

“No problem, sunshine,” Louis says with a grin. He drops his cigarette in one of the ashtrays and then says, “Sorry I flaunted my perfect relationship in your face.”

Zayn cackles at that, pushing Louis away with his shoulder and sliding past him so they can head back inside. “Shut your mouth, gross boy. Don’t make me hate the pair of you even more than I already do.”

Louis smirks. “Arsehole.”

“Malik! Tomlinson!” a voice from inside suddenly yells and Zayn jumps, stepping back and knocking Louis’s floating mug to the floor with a crash. “Oh, for crying out loud, the pair of you. Inside, _now._ ”

“We still have two minutes,” Louis gripes, but obediently follows Cowell back into the office.

“I heard that,” Cowell says, “and the answer is actually, no, you don’t have two minutes. Everyone!” The room turns to look at Cowell in the middle while Zayn and Louis slink back to their desks. “We’ve had a rather nasty murder over the weekend; I’m guessing a few of you must have seen it?” There’s a murmur of agreement. “Her name was Evangeline Carter, fifty-two years old from Walton-on-the-Naze in Essex. Not a pleasant death by any stretch of the imagination.” He pauses for a second, eyes scanning across the room. “She was poisoned while out with her family for a meal on Friday night. Hemlock.”

There’s a stunned silence in the room and Louis winces at the thought of it. Hemlock is one of the first Muggle poisons they taught him about at Hogwarts and the effects are incredibly undesirable, causing paralysis and then death in the victim while they’re completely helpless.

“As you probably all know the antidote for Hemlock is very specific and was of course not to hand,” Cowell continues. “Now, ordinarily we would see this as an individual case. It’s not been uncommon in the past for Muggles to use Hemlock because it’s undetectable in the stomach, but our coroner found it with the use of _Venenum Egritudo._ It’s a spell we need _all_ of you to keep in mind over the next few months, okay, because this wasn’t an isolated incident.”

Louis tenses. Zayn’s eyes bulge across from him and the pair share a quick, pained look.

“ _Venenum Egritudo_ is a poison identifier,” Cowell says, holding out his wand. “Leigh-Anne, would you mind coming here for a moment?”

Leigh-Anne stands up and follows Cowell’s gestures so she’s stood beside him in the centre of the room. Cowell points his wand to her stomach and her eyes fly open, and she quickly takes a panicked step back.

“Nothing to worry about,” Cowell says quickly, pulling a sheepish face. “Here, come back.” Eyeing him sceptically she does, and then Cowell murmurs, “ _Venenum Egritudo,”_ and her stomach starts to glow a greeny-blue colour through her white shirt.

“Bloody hell,” Louis mutters at the same time as Zayn gasps, “that’s _sick_!”

“The recipient will glow this colour if there’s no poison in their system,” Cowell explains. “They’ll glow a sort of burnt orange colour if there is. Any questions?”

Louis shakes his head even though the question was directed at the whole room.

“Good,” Cowell says. “Thanks for that, Leigh-Anne. Sorry for scaring you like that.”

She waves her hand as she sits back down. Cowell clears his throat again.

“This morning, another witch was found killed. She had also been poisoned, but not by hemlock.” Louis pulls a face. “This was Nafeesa Bhamra, thirty-six from Chorley in Lancashire. Now, I know the incidents are nowhere near each other geographically and the poisons used were different, but they occurred very close together and both occurred to Witches, so for now we are treating them as related.” Louis nods, glancing over to Zayn, but he remains stoic as he listens on. “If there’s another killing like this in the next seven days, we will treat them as formally related and as a threat, and action will be taken as such.”

“Shit,” Louis says to nobody in particular.

“Shit indeed, Mr. Tomlinson,” Cowell says. Louis flushes. “But in all seriousness, we need our Aurors alert, you understand?” There’s another collective murmur around the office. “Excellent. There’s a folder on each of your desks briefing each of you with what we know so far, so take a look, familiarise yourself, and if you have any ideas or if anything leaps out at you don’t hesitate to tell a senior Auror, okay? Until then, on with the rest of your assignments please.” Everyone nods and then he disappears into his private office at the back with a sweep of his cape.

“Blimey,” Louis says, turning to Zayn and grimacing. “That’s all pretty nasty, isn’t it?”

“You’re telling me,” Zayn replies, letting out a sigh. “I wonder what made those two the targets. If it’s the same person, that is.”

“I don’t get it either,” Louis says. “Strange though, and bloody horrible. I can only imagine what those two families are going through.”

“I know,” Zayn agrees, chewing on the end of his quill rather unattractively. “I hope they’re just flukes.”

Louis nods as he reaches for the folder, opening it and picking up the parchment on the front. Pinned to it is a moving photo of a middle-aged women, smiling sadly up at him, and it makes Louis’s heart hurt a little. “I think I recognise her, you know,” he says to Zayn. “I don’t think I ever met her, like, properly, but I think I saw her at one of Harry’s mum’s big garden dos.” He slumps back in his chair. “Oh bless her.”

Zayn frowns. “Oh, shit. I didn’t realise Harry knew her.”

“Yeah, he worked himself up a bit this morning when he saw the Prophet,” Louis explains. “Bless him as well, he’s a soppy git at the best of times.”

“Harry’s mum’s closer to the other victim, like, geographically,” Zayn says, examining his own folder. “She’s only the county over. Do you recognise her?”

Louis flicks up the first sheet of parchment to look at the second, with a similar photo but this time the woman is a little younger and Louis doesn’t know her, but the sad smile is the same. “No,” he says, tearing his eyes away from her because he can’t bear the thought of it, “though she was a bit younger, wasn’t she? I seem to remember Harry saying something about his Mum and Evangeline being in the same year at Hogwarts.”

“Oh fair enough,” Zayn shrugs. “Just wondered.” His eyes flick down the page and go wide when he reads what’s written at the bottom. “Holy shit, Lou, look what killed the poor woman.”

Louis scans down the page himself, then gasps. “What the fuck, arsenic?” He shakes his head again and gnaws on this bottom lip nervously. “This is some creepy Agatha Christie bullshit right here.”

“Who’s Agatha Christie?”

“Um, she writes Muggle books,” Louis says, waving him off quickly. “Doesn’t matter, anyway, that’s some… that’s some scary shit, man.”

“Definitely,” Zayn agrees. “Man, it really does sound like there might be a connection, doesn’t there?”

“I mean, quite possibly,” Louis says. “Like, these aren’t easy things to procure, I doubt you can just buy arsenic in the shops or whatever. Whoever did this knows what they’re doing.”

“True,” Zayn says with a nod.

“Would be a sick as fuck case to investigate though,” Louis says without really thinking.

“Louis!”

“What? It would,” Louis says. “No need to get your knickers in a twist. Like, it would be sick but obviously I’m not going to wish people dead for it.”

“Good,” Zayn says. He points his quill at him. “Now get to work, chop chop. Don’t let yourself think about what you might do and do what you should do.”

“You’re too fastidious for your own good,” Louis tells him, but he picks up his quill like he’s told. “I need a second to process what I’ve just read.”

“Well, then take a second and then do this,” Zayn says, tapping his own quill against the huge stack of parchment on Louis’s desk. “Honest to Merlin, it’s like working next to a child.”

Louis just sticks out his tongue at him, then reluctantly gets to work.

The atmosphere in the office is a little tense all day, people still obviously caught up with the news. He tries not to think about it too much and instead works through the day, then once it gets to half five he files what he’s done so far and then trots off to the Floo network, eager to get home to Harry and a nice, home-cooked dinner.

“Honey, I’m home!” he calls as he tumbles out of the fireplace and nearly trips straight over Hermione as she scampers past. He swears loudly after her then chucks his briefcase towards the sofa before going in search of Harry.

“Haz?” he tries again, but he gets nothing. Furrowing his brows, he shrugs off his coat and goes to hang it up in their hallway when he spots a familiar head of curls through the little window in their cottage front door. He pads down the hall and opens the door, which makes Harry jump and drop the cigarette he was smoking into a puddle on the ground.

“Lou,” he breathes out, looking ashamed and tired. He takes a step forward and Louis meets him halfway, wrapping his arms tightly around his middle and squeezing. Louis feels his nose bury itself in his hair and he clings on, a hand running up and down Harry’s back.

“Baby, are you okay?” he asks tentatively. He pulls back and slides his hands up to Harry’s face, cupping his cheeks and pressing the lightest of kisses onto his mouth. “You know you shouldn’t smoke, love, your asthma.”

“I know,” Harry sighs, shaking Louis’s hands off him. “I just needed one, it’s been… it’s been a not-nice day, let’s put it that way.”

“What happened?” Louis says, wrapping his hand around Harry’s wrist and coaxing him back towards the house. He pauses a second and waits until they’re back in the warmth of their home, sat on the sofa together with their legs tangled before he presses Harry again. “Harry?”

“It shouldn’t even be that big of a deal, but I fucked up, Lou,” Harry mumbles. Louis squeezes his hand. He sighs, resting his head against Louis’s shoulder. “You remember Evangeline Carter?”

Louis grimaces. “Yes, I know the name. The lady who died this weekend?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, her. Well, I got an Owl back from Mum and apparently the circumstances surrounding her death were _horrible._ Like they were in this fucking pub and she just convulsed; she couldn’t stop, apparently, it was like she was having some sort of fit and she… she…” He doesn’t continue, just takes several deep, painful-sounding breaths before his whole body slumps against Louis’s in something like defeat.

Louis turns his face into Harry’s soft hair, lips brushing gently over the top of his ear. “I know, darling, I know. It was brought up at work today.”

“Why would anyone want to do that, Louis?” Harry croaks, too loud for their little cottage. “What did she do? She wasn’t a hurtful person, she was someone’s bloody mother and wife and daughter!”

“I know, my love, I know,” Louis murmurs gently, pulling Harry’s rigid form closer into his body. “I’m so sorry.”

Harry’s not quite crying but he’s trembling, forehead pressed hard against Louis’s shoulder. It feels like he’s trying not to cry so Louis runs a hand up and down his stiff back, biting his lip as Harry hiccups and squeezes his knee.

“And then, fucking icing on the cake,” Harry continues in a tired voice, “David Carter was admitted to the hospital this morning.”

“David Carter?” Louis questions.

“Evangeline’s husband. _Widower,”_ Harry corrects sadly. “He tried to kill himself over the weekend – took a fuck load of Muggle tablets called paracetamol and tried to go to sleep.”

“I know what paracetamol does, darling,” Louis says gently. Sometimes Harry seems to forget that he was raised Muggle. “That’s awful.”

“I know,” Harry says miserably, his eyes shiny with unshed tears. “And they have kids who are our age, Louis! I couldn’t not save him, of course I couldn’t, but he tried to _kill himself._ Someone killed his wife and in the process they tried to kill him too! I just can’t…”

“Baby,” Louis croaks, cradling Harry’s head to his chest. “That’s… that’s horrible, I don’t… we weren’t told this today.”

“You see though?” Harry weeps. “People are in danger! And I just _panicked_ today, it was horrible, they told me to do things and I just stood there like a fucking spare part because he wanted to _die,_ Louis, he tried to end it because his wife had died and I didn’t know how to react at all!”

“Sweetheart,” Louis soothes, trying desperately to think of what to say because Harry’s working himself up again. “I need you to breathe, okay, you’re... fuck, Harry, you’re having a panic attack, aren’t you?”

Harry wheezes and grips at Louis tighter, and Louis awkwardly holds him and tries to calm him down. Harry doesn’t have panic attacks often, but when he does they tend to be triggered by something that really hits him hard. Louis remembers holding him through bouts of panic in the library before his exams back at Hogwarts, and he’ll be damned if he can’t do the same for him now.

“Harry?”

Harry hiccups, eyes wide, and Louis starts kissing his head all over, whatever bit of him he can reach. “Harry, listen to me. You’re only a person and you work a tough job. You can’t be perfect at it all the time, babe. It was one time and it’s going to be okay. You can’t put all this on you so I just need you to breathe and listen to my voice, breathe…”

“It doesn’t… feel okay,” Harry hiccups again, squeezing his eyes shut so tight that Louis can feel it through his shirt. “It feels wrong, Lou, really wrong, something’s just _wrong…_ ” He lets out a shuddery breath and looks up at his boyfriend with damp eyes. “I want my mum.”

Louis nods slowly, lacing both their hands together and pressing a lingering kiss into his forehead. “Yeah, sure, little love, we’ll Floo there now if you want.” Harry nods and sniffs, then shakes his head weakly. Louis pulls his hands out of Harry’s and reaches for the hair tie wrapped around his wrist, then bundles Harry’s hair into a loose bun on the back of his head. “I don’t… baby, I need to understand why you’re so upset before I can help, you know that, right?”

“I don’t… I don’t _know,_ ” Harry wails helplessly, reaching back for Louis’s hand. “I just don’t like it; I started crying at work today as well and Perrie had to sit with me until I calmed down and now I’m just… I’m just…”

“Let’s get you to your mum,” Louis says, helping Harry up on shaky legs and keeping himself pressed close to his side as they hobble towards the fireplace. “You go first and I’ll just make sure the cat has food and stuff and I’ll be there in a second, okay?”

“Okay,” Harry snuffles. “Okay, I… I’m going now.”

Perplexed and rather worried, Louis watches as Harry disappears in a puff of green off towards his mum’s house up in Cheshire, and he finds himself hoping desperately that either Anne or Robin or Gemma is home. He doesn’t want to leave his boy for long regardless, so he dashes up the stairs and changes out of his work clothes quickly, throwing on a pair of skinnies and one of Harry’s t-shirts before he runs a toothbrush around his mouth and then does his hair again. He tops up Hermione’s food and water, makes sure the front and back doors are locked, then grabs a handful of Floo powder and his wand and disappears into the fireplace with a shout of “Eight The Redferns, Holmes Chapel!”

The whirring sensation of travel shoots through him, and for a few seconds everything is green and everything is noise, before his feet hit the concrete ground of the Cox’s fireplace hard. He stumbles forward, coughing a little as he wipes the jade-coloured haze from his eyes, and steps out into the familiar setting of his boyfriend’s family home. He blinks a few times, just to get his balance and bearings, then he surveys the scene and feels his heart break a little.

Harry’s stood not far away, wrapped in a tight embrace by his mother, and Louis scrubs a hand over his face before, “oh Hazza,” slips out of his mouth and he moves forward to place what he hopes will be a comforting hand on the small of Harry’s back.

“Lou,” Harry chokes out, pulling out of his mother’s arms and flopping himself into Louis’s. “Louis, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I don’t _understand…”_

Louis just holds him, steadying them both and hooking his chin over his shoulder. Anne catches his eye, looking quite distressed herself, and she shrugs her shoulders questioningly. Louis tries his best to shrug back with thirteen stone of boy in his arms and Anne sighs, running a hand through the front of her hair.

“Baby,” Louis mutters, turning his full attention back to Harry and pressing a long kiss into his cheek. “I need you to calm down, okay?” He pulls back ever so slightly and rests his hand in the middle of Harry’s chest. He takes a deep breath himself and urges Harry to follow. It takes a few goes but eventually he does, the rise and fall of his chest going from erratic to regular after a couple of minutes. Once it’s back to normal Louis takes a step back but gathers both of Harry’s hands in both of his, swinging them gently. “Alright?”

Harry hiccups but nods. “Better,” he rasps. “A bit better, yeah.”

“Okay,” Louis says, stroking a thumb over his knuckles gently. “Okay, good.” He smiles up at him, forgetting that Anne’s even in the room for a second. “You gave me quite a scare there, little love.”

“I don’t know what just happened,” Harry says forlornly, looking at Louis with his big green eyes. “I just couldn’t stop thinking about you… about you _dying,_ Lou, I don’t…”

“Why would you let yourself think that, Harry?” Louis asks him. “I’m just an Auror, it doesn’t mean I’m going to be on the investigation team or anything. It just means I might be needed to do the paperwork for the case or something. It’s not… nothing’s going to happen, I promise. You don’t need to scare yourself.”

“No, but Louis,” Harry says and he sounds desperate. “Something’s really not right about this case. Something _is_ going to go wrong.”

“How do you know that, darling?” Louis questions. He’s never felt more confused in his life. “You can’t be sure of this, Harry, and I don’t understand…”

“No, neither do I, but you need to listen to me,” Harry snaps. Louis shuts up. “Just… I have a really bad feeling about this, okay, and it’s a horrible feeling and I don’t understand it but you need to be _careful,_ you understand?”

“Of course,” Louis says dumbly, squeezing Harry’s hands in his. “Of course I’ll be careful, but I still don’t understand.”

“Look, we’ve said this a hundred times, neither of us understand but I just need you to know I have a feeling something really bad is going to happen and it’s going to happen soon so let’s… just, let me say that and let’s move on? Please?” Harry says, and it almost sounds like he might cry again. “I’m sorry, I just…”

“Hey,” Louis murmurs, taking a step closer to him again and opening his arms, “okay. I promise. I’ll do anything for you, yeah?”

There’s a pause and then, “yeah,” Harry mumbles into his hair. “Yeah, I know. Thank you, Louis.”

“Anything for you,” Louis repeats, smiling into Harry’s shoulder. It’s only then he remembers Anne is in the room, watching their exchange with a mix of curious and fond on her face, so he pulls back and smooths his t-shirt out before he takes Harry’s hand again. “Godric, sorry about that, Anne.”

“No, thank you,” Anne says, resting her hand on Harry’s shoulder who pulls her in for a one-armed hug and presses a kiss into her cheek. “You always calm him down better than I know how.”

“I don’t know what came over me,” Harry mumbles. “I just needed my mum and I needed my boyfriend and it’s just weird. That’s all I know how to describe it as.”

“Whatever it is, you’re clearly feeling like that for a reason,” Anne says matter-of-factly, and Louis nods his agreement.

“I’ve not seen you like that in ages,” he says, squeezing Harry’s hand again. “So whatever just happened has to mean something, yeah, so I’ll be extra careful, I swear. Constant vigilance.”

“Constant vigilance,” Harry repeats, smiling at him gratefully. “I, um, I’m glad you believe me.”

“Of course I do,” Louis says, trying not to sound affronted or taken aback. “Darling, you never get that worked up over nothing, do you? You’re a Healer, for crying out loud, you’re quite good in a crisis.”

“I was rubbish today,” Harry mumbles. “Had to hide in the bloody medical supplies room while they brought this poor man back to life. I just… I felt sick…”

“You’re only human,” Louis says again, brushing Harry’s knuckles across his lips. “You don’t have an easy job, babe. You can’t be expected to be composed in every case.”

“I should be though,” Harry says miserably, “that’s my job. I’ve had the training and everything.”

“Still though,” Anne cuts in, “that case clearly hit you hard and you shouldn’t have to work on it if it triggers a panic attack. Were you okay to leave?”

Harry nods forlornly. “Yeah, yeah. Madam Cole ushered me out and she said she and Perrie would handle it. It was fine.” He pauses. “I mean, it wasn’t _fine,_ but you know.”

“Oh, love,” Anne says, pulling him back into a proper hug. Louis drops Harry’s hand and steps back awkwardly. “Well, we’ll all keep our eyes open, yeah? If something’s made you react like that, well then, I’m on the lookout.”

“Me too,” Louis assures from behind them. “I love you, Harry, I need you to be happy and safe, yeah?”

Anne coos a little as Harry smiles at long last and turns back to Louis, leaving her hold to return to his and pressing a quick, sweet kiss into his mouth.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, and Louis looks up at him and grins, chasing his lips for another kiss. “I was worried you would think it was an overreaction.”

Louis does think it was a little bit of an overreaction, but he’d sooner cut out his own tongue than say it out loud. “As your mum said,” he says, biting down his doubt, “if it made you react like that then it’s important, alright?”

“Thanks,” Harry says again. Louis squeezes him around the middle. Anne leans forward and pulls them both in for a hug.

“Oh, my boys,” she coos, kissing them each on the cheek. “I hate to see you so upset like this. Both of you.”

“Sorry, Mum,” Harry says, sounding a little pitiful, but Anne shushes him.

“But I’m always glad you can come to me,” she tells him, then looks at Louis. “You too, darling. You’re my son too.”

“Love you, Anne,” Louis smiles as he turns to kiss her back on the cheek. “Really appreciate all of this.”

Anne pulls back, brushing down her tunic and then reaching back to tie her long hair into a loose ponytail. “I’m glad you’re both here,” she says with a smile. “Can I interest you in some supper?”

“Ooh please,” Harry says, his face lighting up. “I mean, if that’s okay with both of you.”

Louis grins. “Of course, that would be lovely! If it’s not too much trouble, of course.”

“Nonsense,” Anne waves them aside. “You two are always welcome here. And it’ll be nice to have the company since Robin’s working late.”

“Well, thank you,” Louis grins, tucking himself into Harry’s side and resting a hand on his sternum. “Can we do anything to help?”

“Not at the moment, but I’ll have you make a salad when the time comes, I think,” Anne grins. “Until then, you boys can just keep me company in the kitchen.” She shoots them a knowing look. “But that’s preferably after the snog that I know my son is dying to give you, Louis.”

Louis feels Harry squeak before he hears it and he laughs, turning his face into Harry’s chest and squeezing him playfully. “Sure thing, Anne. See you in a second!”

Anne tuts at them playfully as she disappears into the kitchen and Louis sighs happily before he turns up to look at his boyfriend, who puckers his lips at him with a playful shrug. Louis puts a finger to his mouth and pretends to think about it, laughing as Harry lets out an indignant moan.

“Kiss me,” he demands, so Louis hums and pretends to think about it some more.

“What’s in it for me?”

“My eternal love and devotion,” Harry deadpans. “Come on, Lou, I need a kiss!”

“C’mere then,” Louis says exasperatedly, and slides his hands into Harry’s hair as he kisses the life out of him. Their teeth clack together and there’s a lot more tongue than there probably should be in his mother-in-law’s living room, but right now he can’t bring himself to care.

“That was nice,” he drawls as they eventually pulls away, dramatically wiping his mouth on his forearm. “Slobbery, but nice.”

“I’m always nice,” Harry says. He takes a deep breath and leans down to kiss Louis again, a lot slower and softer this time. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Louis says, his own smile mirroring Harry’s fond grin, but he knows it’s not just for the kiss. “Love you a lot, don’t I?”

“I’m glad you do,” Harry says, wrapping his arms around Louis’s shoulders and staring down at him carefully. “I… I am proud of you, you know. And I don’t want you to think that I hate you doing the job you do because I _don’t…_ I’ve never thought about you being in danger until today and I…”

“Woah, wait,” Louis says, cutting him off and pressing his hand to Harry’s chest. “You thought I was in danger? What the hell made you think that?”

“I don’t… I don’t know,” Harry says. He looks a bit dazed and hesitant, so Louis moves his hand down and rests it on his hip, thumbing over the bone there. “I just, I know I need you safe. Promise me you’ll stay safe.”

“Harry…”

“I don’t care if right now you think I’m being a bit silly but…” Harry glares down at him, almost, and it makes Louis feel small and a little nervous, “fucking promise me right now you’ll be safe. If you get chosen for this team you’ll be safe, won’t you?” His hand covers Louis’s and squeezes. “Promise me, Louis.”

“I mean, I won’t get chosen but yeah, I promise,” Louis says. His brows are furrowed and he frowns, unsure of how to react to this. Harry’s never been this serious about anything like this before. “What’s gotten into you, little love?”

“I don’t understand either, I just _know…_ ”

“So you keep saying, but I want to know too,” Louis says, trying to sound gentle and not as confused and exasperated as he feels. “But yeah, I’ll be careful. I’m always careful anyway.”

“That’s a filthy lie,” Harry says, but he kisses him again and the animosity seems to fade somewhat. “I just want you to be safe.”

“I’m safe,” Louis says, squeezing his hip. “I have a great team and a great boyfriend who both play their part in keeping me safe, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay,” Harry nods, sounding a little more reassured. “Okay, good, we can go back to normal now.”

“Didn’t realise we weren’t being normal,” Louis teases. “You panicking about something is a regular occurrence, love.”

Harry sticks his tongue out at him, and Louis bounces up on tiptoes to bite at it, and that’s that.

(Louis decides not to mention the other death, or the fact that he feels like he’s forcing himself to be normal for the rest of the evening, or even the fact that Harry won’t stop looking at him like he’s got something terminal. _It’s just a blip in the day,_ he reasons with himself. _Harry’ll probably have gotten over the panic by tomorrow._ He desperately hopes so anyway.)

Anne cooks them a hearty meal of lasagne with potato wedges and salad, and talking about a range of things from Louis’s job to his sisters to where the couple are thinking of going on holiday.

“I’d love to do somewhere like Cairo or Marrakech,” Harry says as he wipes his hands on his napkin. “They just look so beautiful.”

“They do,” Louis agrees, helping himself to another scoopful of wedges. “We could do that, couldn’t we, Haz? Get a couple of weeks off in, like, September and go for a fortnight?”

“I’d really like that,” Harry says eagerly, beaming and looking completely endearing despite the fact he has béchamel sauce smeared on his chin. “Can we book it at a Muggle travel agent again?”

Louis groans but he’s grinning. “Ah yes, because last time we went on a Muggle holiday it was so successful.”

“I managed to make everyone forget, didn’t I?” Harry pouts, bottom lip jutting out as Anne cackles and slams her hand on the table. “And that lady’s hair grew back eventually. It was an _accident._ ”

“So you keep telling me,” Louis says, rolling his eyes fondly. “But no, I think we’ll book it through a Wizarding company this time. Just to be on the safe side.”

“You’re no fun,” Harry scowls. “You set someone on fire _one time…_ ”

“That’s more than enough times for me to want to avoid it happening again,” Louis tells him. “And anyway, little love, you know how rubbish you are with sorting out Muggle money. It’s probably for the best that we stick to Abbotts & Co.”

“Fine,” Harry says petulantly, standing up and dropping his napkin on his empty seat. “But I won’t enjoy it nearly as much.”

“You’ll bloody well enjoy it if we’re paying to go all the way to Egypt,” Louis calls after him as he disappears into the hallway and towards the bathroom. He looks back to Anne and they share a laugh. “Bless him.”

“Bless him indeed,” Anne says. She takes a swig of wine as Louis plucks up a wedge and bites it in half. “You know,” she starts conversationally and completely out of the blue, “Egypt would be a lovely place to honeymoon.”

Louis tries to say “what” at the same time as he tries to swallow his bite of potato wedge and ends up choking so hard that Anne has to thump him on the back. It takes him a good few moments of coughing and spluttering to regain his composure. He grabs for his water and takes several grateful glugs as Anne keeps rubbing at his back, tutting like she’s sorry.

“You, er, you caught me a bit by surprise there,” he manages to croak eventually. He gulps down more of the water before he carries on. “Um… w-what’s this about a-a honeymoon?”

“It was only a suggestion, I didn’t mean to make you almost cough your lungs up,” Anne says with a sheepish smile. “It’s just, you and Harry have been together for nearly seven years now, and my boy will never ever stop loving you, I know that much.”

“I’m not ever going to stop loving him either,” Louis rasps. “We’re definitely a done deal, him and me.”

“I know, and I’m so grateful that he has you because you’re such a wonderful pair,” Anne says. She sits back in her chair then reaches across the table and takes his hand. “I just think if you don’t do it, Harry never will. You know what he’s like – he wants to be romanced and he wants you to be the one to do it, basically.” She beams at him, pride and happiness in her smile. “So will you think about it? If you’re as permanent as you say you are, will you at least give it some thought?”

“I… of course,” Louis nods. “I mean, yeah, yeah, that’s, um, marriage, of course, yeah, I see, that’s… hi baby!”

Harry stops in his tracks as he re-enters the room, eyeing them both suspiciously from the doorway. “Hiiiii,” he drawls out after a second. “Is, um, are you both okay?”

“We’re both wonderful,” Louis squeaks. “I had a bit of an incident with a potato wedge but I’m fine now, isn’t that great? I’m so good, I’m…” He cuts himself off when he realises he’s somewhat rambling and lets out a long, soft sigh instead because _Godric,_ he loves Harry with every fibre of his being and his heart is thumping to the beat of _husband husband husband._ “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Harry says, but it’s clear he doesn’t quite believe him. “Um, can I sit back down or are you two having some kind of private conversation about my little episode back there or something?”

“Of course we aren’t,” Anne squawks, swatting at her son’s arm. “As if we would. Come sit down and eat the rest of your lasagne.”

Harry sits, but Louis can tell he’s still dubious of whatever conversation went on while he was in the loo. “Hey, sweetheart,” he murmurs after a few moments, in which Anne starts clearing up some of the empty dishes. “We weren’t talking about you, I promise.”

Harry stabs at his pasta somewhat violently. “I don’t believe you,” he mutters. “You both looked terrified when you heard me coming back.”

“Harry, I nearly just choked to death on a potato wedge,” Louis explains, hoping he sounds sincere. It’s only half a lie anyway. “Your mum had to whack me on the back a bit and then I had a _lot_ of water and then she was just making sure I was okay, okay?”

“Okay,” Harry says slowly, but he’s still not quite meeting Louis’s eyes. “If you say so.”

“Harry, I swear,” Louis says, trying to make his eyes go all big and earnest. “I wouldn’t talk about you like that, you know I wouldn’t.”

“I said okay,” Harry says, and then he forces a smile. “It’s fine, Lou, I believe you.”

Louis slumps back in his chair. “Okay then,” he says, picking at a potato wedge before he tosses it back onto his plate. They sit in silence for an awkward second or two before Louis hops to his feet and trots across to the other side of the table and takes Harry’s face in his hands. “Hey,” he murmurs, then says it again as Harry’s eyes drop down. “Hey!”

“What?” Harry grumbles. “I said I believe you.”

“Well, that’s clearly some bullshit because you’ve got your pout on,” Louis says, eyebrows raised. “Look me in the eye, Styles. _Harry._ ”

Harry looks up and Louis pulls a face at him, crossing his eyes and tugging his lips up into a smile. It only takes a couple of seconds for Harry to start giggling, and only a few more moments for them to be kissing each other, laughing into each other’s mouths. Harry brackets Louis in, his long legs trapping him in place and Louis’s hands stay firm on Harry’s cheeks as their lips move together, gentle and firm.

Anne ends up breaking them apart, clearing her throat before she points sternly to their empty plates. They untangle themselves reluctantly and help her clear the table, then after one final cup of warm tea and a few slices of Battenberg, they decide to make a move.

Harry hugs his mum for a long time, then steps back to let Louis slide into his place. “Think about it,” is all she murmurs in his ear and he nods tightly, before stepping back and following Harry down the fireplace.

Back in their own house, Louis closes their fireplace off with a wave of his wand and then goes up to where Harry’s stood at their fridge, pulling out the milk. The kettle is already boiling on the stove, bless his heart, and the candles that usually light up the room are all lit and burning a mellow, soft orange. “Babe,” he murmurs, kissing his shoulders one at a time. “You okay?”

“I’m okay,” Harry says, setting the milk on the counter and turning to face him. “I… thank you for being there today. I mean, I’m still not sure what even happened but I’m glad I had you there, I know that much.”

“Always,” Louis assures, brushing some cat hair off the front of Harry’s top. “I don’t get it either, but I guess we’ll see what happens as time goes on, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, hands going up to gather his hair and secure it out of his face again. “You… you do believe me, don’t you? And you _will_ be careful?”

“Yes, I’ll be careful,” Louis says with a nod. “I will, I promise.”

“Okay, good,” Harry says. “I just love you a lot, and I want to keep you around for a long time. Probably forever.”

“Probably forever,” Louis echoes, hand going to his empty ring finger and playing with the skin there. “Yeah, me too. Wanna keep you forever too.”

Harry positively beams, pressing a quick hard kiss against Louis’s lips before he bustles about and makes the tea. Louis goes over to the sofa and snaps the telly on with the remote control, settling on a late night comedy repeat on Dave until Harry comes over with the two steaming mugs and places them on the coffee table. He slots himself onto the sofa behind Louis and tugs him into the gap between his legs, then easily plucks the remote into his own hand and changes it to a recorded episode of Barefoot Contessa.

“You’re obsessed,” Louis tuts, but settles back against his boyfriend’s chest and hums happily as Harry noses at the nape of his neck. Ina’s cooking a chicken for Jeffrey as she does every Friday, and he can practically hear Harry purring at the domesticity he’s witnessing on screen.

“It’s a delicious treat for the one you love most, don’t you think?” Ina chortles on the screen, and Louis thinks yes, it is. And Harry’s the one he loves most, without a doubt, and they are pretty much set for life. They’ve got a house and a cat together, a joint bank account down at Gringotts, and Louis can’t imagine spending the rest of his life with anyone who isn’t Harry.

He twists his head back to look at Harry, his soft smile glowing in the candlelight of their cosy, wonderful little home, and Louis thinks that pressed here in the warmth of the fire and the telly and tea and _home,_ that there’s nothing and nobody he wants more than this life with this boy.

So maybe, just maybe, it is time to make Harry his husband.

*

Louis asks Zayn the next day over their cafeteria lunch.

"Hey, so…" He pauses, heat prickling up the back of his neck as Zayn stops eating to give him a curious look. "Um, so, like…"

Zayn sighs. “What do you want? Who do I have to hex for you?”

"Nobody," Louis splutters. "No, I…" He pauses and then blurts, "do you think I should propose to Harry?"

Zayn shoots him another look. Louis flushes deeper.

"What?"

"What kind of a question is that?" Zayn snorts, rolling his eyes into his toastie. "I’m surprised you haven’t already, if we’re being honest."

"Really?" Louis says, surprised. "I mean, I… do you not think we’re too young for marriage?"

"Can you see yourself marrying anyone else? Really?" Zayn says, narrowing his eyes. "You’ve been essentially married to the kid since you were seventeen."

"He’s not a kid anymore," Louis says indignantly. "And anyway, no, we haven’t. I only started thinking about it yesterday."

"I refuse to believe that you and Harry have never discussed marriage," Zayn says flatly. Louis shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders. "Wait, really?"

Louis shakes his head again. “I mean, like, we’ve talked about that we’re, like, each other’s firsts and how we don’t want to be with anyone else and stuff but, like, not that level of permanent.” The heat prickles back up his neck again. “Do you think he really wants it?”

"Mate," Zayn says, staring him dead in the eye. "That is the stupidest question you’ve asked in all our years of friendship."

"Really?" Louis repeats. He chews his thumbnail, ripping at it until it hangs limply and there’s blood around the edges. "So I should ask him then? You don’t think he’ll say no?"

"He’ll probably say yes before the words are even fully out your gob," Zayn snorts. He stabs his fork into his bowl of salad. "Honestly, Lou, he’s absolutely irreparably in love with your sorry arse and he’d say yes in a heartbeat, swear on my life."

"He’s not…" Louis starts nervously as he tears at a napkin. "Have you talked about it ever with him?"

"Once, but we’d had a bit of fire whiskey," Zayn admits. "And I made a comment about being your best man or I’d have to have you Cursed, and instead of defending you the poor lad just got all wistful and starting sighing a lot. So I asked him, and he promised me not to tell you, mind, but he said he wished you’d hurry up and just ask him."

"Really?" Louis squeaks. He feels a bit light-headed. "When the hell was this?"

"Like, eight months ago?" Zayn muses. Louis pales. "Oh, Lou."

"I love him," Louis manages to croak after a few seconds. "I love him and I’m gonna do it, I’m gonna ask him." Zayn smiles softly, reaching out his hand to cover Louis’s where he gives his fingers a little squeeze. "Will you come ring shopping with me?"

Zayn groans. “Must I?” Louis pouts indignantly. “Fine, fine. But only if you buy me a pint after.”

"Deal," Louis agrees happily.

"I’m gonna need it if I have to put up with my two best mates talking about flowers and swatches and the amazing missionary sex they had last night," Zayn grumbles. Louis squawks into his bacon. "Honestly, this is why I’m surprised you’re not actually married on paper yet, you’ve been figuratively married for bloody years."

"We do not just have missionary sex, excuse you," Louis balks. "And you know I don’t give two shits about flowers."

"You’ll give a shit because Harry gives a shit," Zayn points out. "And I bet Harry _makes love_ to you more than he fucks you these days, I _bet_."

"Oh, shut your face," Louis snaps. "We still _fuck_."

"When did you last have sex?" Zayn demands.

"Sex sex or sex stuff?"

"Actual sex."

"Two nights ago," Louis tells him.

"And what led up to the sex?" Zayn questions, eyes glinting with mischief.

"Harry made a Sunday roast," Louis recalls, "Lamb, it was, absolutely delicious. He does this potato bake thing with carrots and mint and thyme and stuff, it’s absolutely divine.”

“Listen to yourself,” Zayn snorts. Louis flips him off and continues.

“And we were watching Nigella - it’s a Muggle cooking show Harry’s obsessed with - and then we started kissing and then we had sex."

"Missionary?" Zayn probes. Louis flushes, ignoring him in favour of peeling the crusts off his second sandwich. "I fucking knew it! Bet he carried you to the bed like a proper gentleman and all."

"Listen, that was a bad example," Louis snaps. "We do still have lots of rough and dirty sex, thank you Malik."

"You’re so fucking married, mate," Zayn grins. "And when you do actually get married you’ll literally have love made to you every night. _Every night_ , Lou."

"Shut up," Louis says, swiping the last bite of his toastie. "We do _not_ just make love."

(He doesn’t mention that he can’t actually remember the last time they actually got rough with each other, can’t even remember the last time they didn’t fuck face to face unless you count their slow, lazy morning fucks where one would fuck the other on their belly to avoid morning breath. Come to think of it, it’s been months since they’ve done anything new - the craziest thing they ever really do sex-wise is sometimes fuck on the sofa. He vows to change this immediately, tonight even. He’ll work on his proposal later.)

"Whatever you say, Louis," Zayn hums, clearly still disbelieving but thankfully letting it go. "Whatever you say."

*

When Louis gets home from work that day, he finds his boyfriend naked save for boxers, a pair of mustard-coloured socks and an apron that reads _Kiss the cook or get out my kitchen_ across the chest. He’s got flour in his hair and dusted across his face, and the kitchen smells like sugar, cooking fruit and pastry.

“Lou!” he chirps happily as Louis clambers out their fireplace. “Lou, I’m finally making that pie!”

If this was any other day, Louis would sidle up to him, wrap his arms around his waist and kiss his shoulder blades, eat the bloody pie and then probably have sex with Harry in the missionary position. But today is not like any other day. Today he’s going to fuck Harry until he’s seeing stars and tomorrow he’s going to think about getting him a ring and proposing to him in the stupidest, sappiest way he can think of. _Godric,_ he feels giddy with it already.

“Lou?” Harry says, brows knitted together questioningly and Louis realises he’s been stood there a good minute just staring and not saying anything. “Lou, are you okay?”

In lieu of an answer, Louis drops his bag to the floor, marches into their kitchen and kisses him.

He presses him hard against a cupboard, arms boxing him in as he presses their bodies together as close as he can get them from this angle. He’s shorter than Harry, which puts him at a slight disadvantage, but the fact that Harry wasn’t expecting it gives up a slight upper hand.

He moves one of his hands up to curl in Harry’s loose hair, keeping their mouths pressed together as he licks into his mouth. Harry moans into it, clearly not expecting it but lets Louis take the lead happily, his own hands clutching somewhat uselessly at Louis’s shoulders.

“Lou,” he says again breathlessly after they’ve pulled apart. “Lou, I…”

“Been thinking about you all day,” Louis cuts in, tugging at Harry’s hair and making him groan again. “Been thinking about bending you over, getting my fingers inside your pretty little arse and making you _beg_ for it. _God,_ Harry, I want you so much.”

“What?” Harry gulps, almost sounding confused. “Louis, I…”

Louis shuts him up, hands moving down to press him harder by the chest into the door. “You heard,” he says, teeth scraping at Harry’s jaw. “I want to _fuck_ you, Harry. Can I fuck you, baby boy?”

“Louis,” Harry groans again, ducking back in for another filthy kiss in lieu of a response. Louis lets him have control for all of two seconds before he’s sliding his hand down to his hip, moving his hand past the fabric of the apron to the tie at the back. He pulls it loose and then pulls back, yanking the string over his head and tossing it to the floor before kissing him again, lips gliding over Harry’s, hot and slick. He presses him back against the wood of the cupboard then slides his palms up his chest, brushing a thumb over Harry’s nipple and making him gasp. Arms wind around his waist to keep him close and he sinks into them, wanting – _needing –_ to be as close to Harry as he can make himself.

“You’re so hot,” Louis hisses, grabbing one of Harry’s wrists in each hand from behind his back and pinning them against the door. He knows manhandling will get Harry hot like nothing else and their kisses grow harsher, teeth clacking together as Louis presses himself on tiptoes to get closer, close enough to brush his denim-clad dick over Harry’s cotton-clad one. Harry moans again, eyes half-lidded with desire when they pull apart.

He feels Harry whimper through his trembling skin as he breaks away to kiss down his jaw again, sucking and nipping at the skin and leaving a faint trail of red in his wake as he moves down to his shoulders. Harry’s breath is coming out ragged now, hitching as Louis wraps his lips around Harry’s nipple, scraping his teeth over the bud until it’s full and hard in his mouth.

“Baby,” he says lowly, pulling off the nipple with an exaggerated slurp and staring up at him. “Baby, what do you want me to do to you?”

Harry simply whimpers in response, eyes wide and hair wild from where Louis’s been tugging on it. Louis raises his eyebrows, holding back a smirk because he _loves_ this Harry and _Godric,_ has he missed making him like this. It’s a testament to how long it’s been that Harry seems so submissive already, like he’s forgotten how to not render all control to Louis the second he gets a little bit more dominant like this. It was something they used to do a lot when they were first starting out and finding each other’s kinks, and Louis’s not quite sure why they ever stopped.

“Okay, then, I’ll tell you what I want you to do,” Louis says, pressing another kiss into the middle of Harry’s chest. “I want you to go and have a shower; make sure you’re lovely and clean for me, okay? Then I want you on our bed, on your hands and knees. No touching.”

“Yeah,” Harry says breathily, nodding fervently and arching his back as Louis latches onto his other nipple without warning. “Yeah, _shit,_ yeah.”

“Ssssh, baby,” Louis soothes, but he can’t hide back the smirk this time. He straightens up and winds a strong arm around Harry’s middle so he’s no longer leaning against the wall. He slides his other hand up to Harry’s cheek and gently rubs at it to coax him down for what he hopes is a calming kiss. When they break apart, he pats him gently on the bum. “Off you go now, yeah?”

“The… the pie, Lou,” Harry says with a near-frantic shake of his head. “Need to… it’s gonna burn, I…”

“I’ll sort it, darling,” Louis promises, nipping at Harry’s jaw a little. “You just go and get yourself ready for me, okay?”

Harry looks a little forlorn still so Louis kisses him again, licking into his mouth and flicking their tongues together. He ignores Harry’s brief noise of protest and presses closer to him, until Harry eventually melts into the kiss and the pie is forgotten. They pull apart and Louis gently pushes him away, watching him nearly slip on the hardwood floors as he dashes towards the stairs. Once he’s out of sight, Louis waits for the familiar clang of the pipes before he starts clearing up the kitchen, taking the pans off the hob and covering them with their lids.

Once he’s pretty sure that Harry won’t bitch at him later for interfering in his kitchen and he’s heard the pipes clang again to signal the shower being turned off, he waits just a few more minutes before he heads upstairs. He’s deliberately slow with his movements, wants to keep the element of surprise to this, but he also needs a second to prepare for the sight that he knows is about to greet him.

And _Godric,_ is it a sight.

Harry’s on the bed as instructed, his head resting on his cradled arms on their pillows. Louis can see how ragged his breathing is just from the way the smooth slope of his back is moving and he looks _beautiful:_ arse up, legs spread and his tight hole on show.

“Look at you,” Louis says before he can stop himself, swallowing thickly. Harry cranes his head behind him, his own Adam’s apple bobbing as he takes a deep breath of his own. Louis walks over to him slowly, running a cold hand down the plain of his back and onto his arsecheeks before he runs it back up and thumbs over some of the curls on the back of Harry’s neck. “Beautiful, baby boy, so so beautiful for me.”

“Lou,” Harry all but whimpers, his voice coming out strained already. Louis runs his hand back down him, shushing him ever so gently. He stops just above Harry’s crack, dipping his thumb inside it ever so slightly. “ _Lou.”_

“It’s okay,” Louis says reassuringly. He bends down and starts to press gentle kisses into every knob of Harry’s spine, starting just above his hand and working his way up. His thumb dips back into the cleft of Harry’s arse, just skimming over the top and not actually applying any pressure. Harry’s skin is warm and still a little damp, and he’s flushed pink all over already. His cock is hard and heavy between his legs and he’s making these pretty little throaty sounds that make Louis want more than he already does.

He takes a break from the kissing to undress himself quickly, ignoring Harry’s whine as he steps away and pulls off his jumper and top in one go then takes his time taking off his shoes and socks. His jeans follow shortly, then his boxers and when he’s done he goes back over to the bed and kneels over Harry again, lips pressing into the back of his neck before he moves down his body again.

Harry’s breathing feels out of control and Louis smirks, darting his tongue out to lick up a bead of sweat that’s already trailing down Harry’s hot back. The atmosphere is thick and Louis wants nothing more than to wreck him, but that’s not going to happen if he keeps it this tame so he decides to take it up a notch.

He stops when he gets to his ribs then puts his hands on his hips and flips him onto his back. “I want you to suck me, darling,” he commands, sitting himself next to him and grabbing him by the hair to tug him in for a bruising kiss. He licks into Harry’s lax mouth, hands staying strong and tight to keep his head firm as he fucks his tongue in and out. “Do you wanna put me in your mouth, pretty baby?”

Harry nods hurriedly, groaning at the tug on his hair. Louis nods himself, letting Harry turn around and position himself onto all fours, arse next to Louis’s head, and then guides Harry’s head forward and down to where he wants it. He parts his lips obediently, one hand holding loosely at the base as he feeds it eagerly into his waiting mouth. He tightens his lips and goes straight to the base, dragging them up Louis’s half-hard length in one slick glide.

“Yes, baby,” Louis groans, unable to help is as the heat of Harry’s mouth takes him in. He slides down him again, lips tight as he gets Louis’s prick hard and messy with spit. Louis’s hand stays in his hair, guiding him and coaxing encouragements as he takes him deeper and deeper with every head movement. The other slides down his back again, cupping an arsecheeks and squeezing in gentle encouragement. Harry makes another little whine and takes Louis as deep as he can. His head knocks against the pillow and he digs his fingernails a little harsher into the flesh of Harry’s arse, which just seems to spur him on.

He lets his fingers run up and then back in between Harry’s arsecheeks, dry fingertips running over Harry’s tight hole. He presses his middle finger down a little harder and his own back arches in pleasure at the hum it pulls from Harry, wonderful sensation shooting up his dick. He does it again a little harder and Harry pushes his arse back as if he wants to take Louis’s fingers, but a quick, harsh slap to his bum cheek stops that immediately, keeping him focused on just sucking Louis’s cock like a good boy.

A whimper escapes him as Louis accidentally pulls him up too far and a trail of spit dribbles down his chin, which they both ignore. Louis guides him straight back down, keeping his head held down a little longer before he brings him back off again. Harry’s eager as anything, mouth wide and hands behind his back, happily letting his mouth be fucked. It’s only after a few more head bobs that Louis coaxes him off, now happily hard and ready to give something back to his boy.

Harry whines as he’s pulled off, his tongue dancing out to keep licking at Louis’s length. Louis allows him this for a little longer, letting Harry nose into his pubic hair and press open-mouthed kisses up his cock. It’s sloppy and hot and wonderful, and normally Louis would let himself sink into it and probably come after just a few more minutes of Harry’s wonderfully skilled mouth, but he has so many better plans for today.

“Off, baby,” he orders, tugging Harry’s head back up and smashing their mouths together. Harry comes willingly, a mess of spit on his chin and his eyes wide and dark. Harry kisses back hungrily, tongue sloppy as he lets Louis take the lead. They kiss for a few minutes while Harry’s breath slows down, then when Louis pulls back he presses a firm palm against Harry’s cheek and looks him straight in the eye. “Turn around for me, little one.”

Harry complies easily, crawling forward and straddling Louis clumsily. His thighs sit on top of Louis’s and once Louis’s sure he’s comfortable and not going to topple off the bed he pulls his arse a little higher, then spreads his cheeks with his thumbs. He dives straight in with his tongue, licking a long stripe up to his crack. Harry whines and knocks his forehead hard against Louis’s ankle but Louis pays no mind, spreading him even wider and licking over him messily.

He tastes like musk and clean sweat and soap, and Louis can’t get enough. He rests his nose on the small of Harry’s back and rubs his face inside Harry’s arse, getting the whole area slick with spit. Harry clenches around his tongue, little whines escaping him every time Louis’s tongue presses past the tight walls of his hole. Louis’s hands are firm on his bum, keeping him nice and spread, but when he lets out a particularly loud whine Louis brings his hand down on his cheek in a resounding smack which makes him whimper and then still.

“Don’t be greedy,” Louis commands. He waits a couple of seconds to make sure Harry doesn’t do it again then dives back in, lapping at his hole before pulling back again and then spits directly onto it (he has Harry’s arse in his face and a very hard cock between his legs, he doesn’t want to move to find the lube). He starts to press his ring finger in ever so slightly, just to the first knuckle, wanting to work Harry open slowly and teasingly, but not wanting to hurt him.

After a few more minutes of licking with just the tip of his finger inside Harry’s arse, he dares to press it in a little further down to the second knuckle. Harry moans, long and obscene, as Louis’s tongue goes back to lapping around the finger to make it press in as smoothly as possible.

Suddenly, a bottle of lube appears out of nowhere, dropping onto the top of Harry’s head and making him jolt in surprise. Louis jumps too, pushing his entire finger in to the hilt which in turn makes Harry whine in pained surprise. He pulls it out quickly and looks up, surprised and a little worried, to see Harry peering over his shoulder, a sheepish smile on his face despite the fact he’s also got tears in his eyes.

“Sorry,” he croaks, sounding overwhelmed and a bit befuddled himself. “Tried… Summoned the lube… it… I…”

“I know, baby, I know,” Louis reassures, pressing a lingering kiss into one of his bumcheeks. “Good boy, good thinking, baby.” Harry sniffs, and Louis pats his arse reassuringly. “Want me to eat you out some more? Lick your bum?”

“I… um…” Harry sniffs again, pressing his arse back into Louis’s face but Louis furrows his brows and gives it another smack, making Harry cry out and whimper loudly.

“I asked you a question,” Louis reminds him. “Words, baby.”

“I… inside?” Harry asks, a hopeful lilt in his tight voice. “F-fingers? P-please?”

Louis kisses his other arsecheek. “Good boy. You can have my fingers, darling, since you asked so nicely.” He hears Harry keen and he presses one more kiss over his hole before he reaches awkwardly past Harry for the lube, uncapping it and drizzling it over two of his fingers. He slowly presses his index finger in, sinking his teeth into Harry’s red arse as he does so and Harry all but sobs, forehead knocking against Louis’s toes as he pulls it back out again.

He takes his time fingering Harry open, working the second finger in once he’s sure he won’t hurt him. He tucks them in snugly and crooks them, seeking out Harry’s prostate. Once he finds it, he strokes over it and makes Harry’s entire body jolt with pleasure, smirking as Harry moans out his name in a broken cry.

“Louis, _Louis,”_ he cries, rubbing his sweaty forehead on Louis’s foot. “Lou, _please.”_

“Eager little thing, aren’t you?” Louis says. He brings his hand down one more time and Harry sobs, nodding fervently. “If you want my cock this badly then you’re going to have to do all the work, baby.”

“I will, I will,” Harry slurs, scrabbling to sit up and back on Louis’s thighs. Louis wraps an arm around his middle and helps position him up, his other hand gripping his cock so he can slide it easily into Harry’s puckered hole. Harry pushes himself up on shaky knees but sinks down easily enough, his own hand moving back to grip Louis’s cock so he can seat himself on it.

He sinks himself down slowly and Louis nearly loses it himself; Harry’s tight and slick around him and it’s fucking _amazing._ He shifts his hips a little and adjusts himself so he’s sitting comfortably against the pillows, loosening his grip on Harry’s waist a little so Harry can adjust to the stretch. Harry’s panting, skin hot and damp with sweat, and he clumsily tries to place his feet either side of Louis’s thighs so he can ride him properly. Louis guides him into place with a hand wrapped around an ankle and Harry turns his face into Louis’s hair and gives him a little kiss in thanks. Louis smiles and turns his head to capture his lips, pressing a few gentle kisses onto his mouth before he props himself up on his elbows and lays his legs down flat on the mattress.

“Ride me then, baby,” he encourages, fucking his hips up a couple of times to make Harry whine and jolt him into action. “C’mon, Harry, love, you wanted this.”

Harry does just that, lifting himself up and sinking back down, mouth dropping open as he shifts his hips just right for the blunt head of Louis’s cock to nudge his prostate. He hears him swallow thickly and just watches his clumsy, lanky, _beautiful_ boyfriend ride his dick like he’s never wanted anything more in the world.

Harry alternates the pace for himself, swapping between a few moments of rapid fucking and then slow, lazy drags that make Louis’s head spin. He moans Louis’s name again, loud and open, and it’s enough to make Louis want to hold his hips and drive into him harder. Harry moans his name again louder, crying out as Louis’s fingernails dig into the soft meat of his hips, his chanting getting louder and more breathy as Louis keeps fucking him. He’s got tears pouring down his face as he starts to fist at his cock, still chanting Louis’s name like a prayer, when the realisation of a lifetime hits Louis harder than ever.

Harry’s his everything. Harry Styles is his absolute everything, the most beautiful thing in his life, and he’s riding Louis’s cock and letting himself be so vulnerable about it, so open and earnest with his love for Louis that the idea of him not having this every single day makes me feel almost ill. He loves Harry with everything he has, and Harry loves him back, and he’s going to marry the fuck out of this boy and keep him tucked close to his side forever. He’s going to love him like nobody else can, keep him from harm’s way and make love to him and do everything married couples do and he doesn’t want to wait another fucking second for it.

In hindsight, it’s probably not the greatest decision he’s ever made – proposing while completely balls deep in Harry while he cries and writhes on top of him, but never let it be said that Louis Tomlinson doesn’t know how to do things to the most dramatic potential.

“Will you marry me?” he blurts, stilling his hips and tightening his grip on Harry’s waist.

The reaction is not _really_ what he was expecting.

Harry just _comes,_ his entire body jerking with the force of it. It goes fucking _everywhere,_ splashing up Harry’s torso and shoulders, and he’s _never_ come like this before, not so hard and without any kind of warning. He’s a deadweight of top of Louis, his breathing ragged and his whole body trembling so Louis stills his hips, going completely still while still sheathed in Harry’s arse. He still hasn’t said anything and Louis kind of wants to throw up.

“H-Harry?” he croaks, almost too scared to press further. “Baby? _Harry?”_

A palm suddenly collides with his cheek and he jumps, fucking his hips up and making Harry whine. He tries to pull out of him, his own dick be damned, when suddenly there’s a sniff and then a sob, then Harry’s climbing off him and tackling him into the pillows, kissing all over his face before Louis can register what the fuck is going on.

“You _arsehole,”_ Harry wails. He’s crying like Louis’s never seen him cry before and he tries to reach out to cup his face in some weak attempt at comfort but Harry doesn’t let him, pulling back and glaring at him as the tears pour down his cheeks. “I cannot _believe_ you asked me that during sex, Louis!”

Louis tenses up. “I… Harry, I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

Harry sniffs again and then he’s laughing, face snotty and beautiful as he tips his head back and cackles, shaking his head from side to side disbelievingly. “The answer’s yes though,” he grins through his tears. “Fucking hell, Louis, yes, I’ll marry you.”

“Yes?” Louis repeats, heart leaping in his chest. “You say yes?”

“Yes,” Harry nods, then starts crying again, “yes, yes, _yes,_ fuck! Fuck, Louis, yes!”

“Yes?” Louis asks again, because he needs to be _sure._ “We’re getting married?”

“We’re getting married,” Harry repeats, choking out another painful sounding combination of a cackle and a sob. “Shit, we’re getting married.”

“We’re getting married,” Louis repeats again, grin splitting his face from ear to ear. He reaches up and winds his arms around Harry’s neck, tugging him down for a wonderful, if slightly messy kiss that he never wants to end despite the fact that Harry’s face is covered in snot and he tastes like tears. He’s _getting married._

“I love you so much,” he tells him as they pull apart, cupping Harry’s face and wiping rather futilely at his tears. “You’re the love of my fucking life and I love you so much.”

“I love you, I love you,” Harry chokes out. He knocks their foreheads together and kisses him again, long and slow. “You’re the love of my life too, shit.”

Louis grins wider, brushing their noses together before kissing him again. It doesn’t take long for the kisses to grow heated again, Louis still hard and Harry halfway there again already.Smirking against Harry’s lips Louis flips him over easily, pressing Harry against the pillows and spreading his legs. “Yeah?” he questions, and Harry nods with a whimper, spreading his own legs wide and wrapping them around Louis’s back tightly as he sinks himself inside.

It doesn’t take long for either of them to come, Harry jerking himself easily as Louis thrusts into him, still attached at the lips. Louis holds off until Harry’s trembling, then covers his hand with his own and jerks him faster until he comes again, which makes Louis come himself just a few seconds after.

Panting into each other’s mouths, they topple back onto the pillows in a tangle of limbs. There’s spunk everywhere and they’re going to have to change the sheets because they’re absolutely covered in it, not that Louis gives a shit right now.

“I love you so fucking much,” he says again, grinning as Harry lets out a little squeak and tucks his head into Louis’s neck. “I’m sorry it wasn’t, like, the proposal you always wanted or whatever, but for what it’s worth you scared the shit out of me, so I’d say we’re even.”

Harry pinches his nipple. “I _panicked,_ ” he mumbles forlornly into Louis’s shoulder. “I thought I’d misheard you and then _you_ stopped and it was all so weird and I…”

“Oh shut up, I’m teasing,” Louis says, prodding him in the bicep before he reaches for Harry’s hand to lace their fingers. “Still going to get you a ring, of course.”

Harry turns his head at a lightning speed, eyes wide as he stares at Louis. “Yeah?” he questions in a small voice, squeezing Louis’s hand like a vice. “Really?”

Louis nods. “I’ll even propose again if you want me to. Get you the ring and ask your dad all proper, then take you out to Muggle London to the best restaurant I can Confund our way into…”

Harry’s kissing him again before he’s even finished his sentence, nodding rapidly even as he licks into Louis’s mouth.

“Please,” he says with a wet chuckle as he pulls back, hands cupping Louis’s cheeks. “That sounds amazing, yes please.”

“Consider it done,” Louis grins, opening his arms and settling Harry’s longer body against his chest. He kisses his hair and covers one of Harry’s hands on his face so he can link their fingers. “The very best for my fiancé.”

Harry squeals into Louis’s chest, turning his excited face away but kicking his legs against the mattress like an excited child. “ _Fiancé,”_ he giggles merrily. “That’s the best thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Louis chuckles and pretends to roll his eyes. “Harry Styles-Tomlinson,” he singsongs. “Harry Styles-Tomlinson and his _husband_ Louis Styles-Tomlinson.” He pulls a face. “Bit of a mouthful, ain’t it?” Harry doesn’t say anything, just keeps beaming up at him. “You fucking love it, don’t you? You little domestic bastard, this is practically giving you another fucking boner.”

“I always thought it would be Tomlinson-Styles if I’m being honest,” Harry grins. “Or just Tomlinson. Harry Tomlinson.”

“Harry fucking Tomlinson,” Louis chuckles, leaning down for a kiss. “That does have a ring to it. I could get used to that, you know.”

“You fucking better,” Harry says, playfully pinching his nipple. “That’s your life now. That’s your life for the rest of your life.”

“Christ, what on earth was I thinking?” Louis crows, then yelps when Harry pinches his nipple harder. “Sounds positively _terrible,_ you for the rest of my life.”

“ _Louis!”_

“Oh hush, you know I’m teasing,” Louis says faux-exasperatedly. “I’m quite looking forward to it, if you must know. But don’t tell anyone that.”

“Whatever,” Harry pretends to huff. “You looooove me, you want to _marry_ me, you want to have my babies and raise a family and grow old wi… _nngh.”_

Louis cuts him off with a hard kiss. “Shut up,” he murmurs into his mouth. “You’re really annoying and I just want to kiss you. Will you stop talking so I can?”

Harry tuts but moulds their lips back together, snaking his tongue into Louis’s mouth and rolling back on top of him, pressing him against the pillows.

They don’t do much talking after that.

*

_One of the things Louis loves most about returning to Hogwarts after a long summer is the Sorting. It’s so much fun watching these new witches and wizards coming into this new school and getting excited (or sometimes looking absolutely mortified) about the Houses they’re sorted into, ready to start their magical journey._

_Third year Muggleborn Louis Tomlinson watches happily from the Gryffindor table, nestled between his friends with a big plate of chicken and a full glass of pumpkin juice in front of him. A young girl with bright ginger pigtails has just been sorted into their House, and he drops a bone onto the plate to join in with the raucous applause. There’s a pause as Headmistress McGonagall readies herself for the next young hopeful._

_“Styles, Harry!” she calls, and a young boy with a head full of curls stumbles out of the crowd and towards the seat. He’s got big round eyes and chubby cheeks, eager with a bounce in his step as he walks up to the seat. He sits down and Professor McGonagall places the hat on his head. There’s a few seconds of pause, and then the hat bellows out, “Hufflepuff!”_

_The boy rises, a beam on his young face, then as he’s scuttling towards the Hufflepuff table he trips over his own feet, stumbling and toppling on the ground with a loud “oof!”_

_Laughter explodes throughout the Great Hall and echoes through the high ceilings. Professor McGonagall hurries over to pull him back to his feet and she dusts him down a little before sending him back over to join his house. His face is burning bright red, bless him, and Eleanor beside Louis groans into her hands._

_“Nooo, Harry, bloody hell,” she whines. “I can’t believe he’s just done that.”_

_Louis wipes his eyes and looks over at her. “Oh god, do you know him?”_

_Eleanor nods. “Yeah, we grew up in the same village, went to the same school and stuff, he’s a family friend. I think we were maybe two of the only Pureblood kids in Holmes Chapel, actually. Poor kid, he’s got to be mortified.”_

_“Bloody brilliant though,” Stan says from Louis’s other side. “That was so fucking funny.”_

_“Language, Stanley,” Eleanor reprimands. “He’s only a First Year, don’t be mean.”_

_Louis cranes his neck and tries to get a better look at the kid. He’s now sat in between a Prefect and another First Year that they watched get Sorted earlier. He’s got a kind of bemused grin on his face, looking more distracted by the huge array of food heaped in huge piles on the plates in front of him rather than paying any mind to the fact that he just humiliated himself in front of most of the school._

_Not that Louis can blame him, the food is secretly one of his favourite things about Hogwarts._

_That’s the first time Louis properly looks at Harry Styles, already feeling rather fond of the small boy in a strange way, despite he really doubts there’s a chance their paths will cross. He’s very wrong, of course, but there’s still time before fate brings them together._

_Until that time, Louis resigns himself to stuffing his face with more chicken and watching as a new string of First Years joins the Gryffindor table._


	2. Fidelius

“Louis. Louis. Louis. _Lewis.”_

Louis looks up with a glare, looking greatly offended despite the fact that he’s the one who isn’t doing any work here. “What?”

“Have you got a spare quill?” Zayn asks with a sigh. “Mine just split.”

“Oh, yeah, somewhere,” Louis says. He opens one of his desk drawers and rummages around for a second, before handing the fresh quill over with his left hand so Zayn makes sure to take note of the fact that Louis’s wearing a new engagement ring for the umpteenth time that day. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” Zayn says drily as he accepts it. “Oh, by the way, when were you going to tell me you were engaged?”

“Fuck off,” Louis retorts back, pulling a face at him. “Don’t be a jealous little turd.”

“I’m not jealous,” Zayn deadpans, dipping his new quill in his ink and finding a scrap bit of parchment to practice writing on, “I’m exasperated because we’ve got until the end of the day to get this list of names in and you’re too busy staring at your fucking finger.”

“I’m in love, sue me,” Louis prattles, but picks up his own quill again. Zayn tuts.

“I’ll settle for the salary you’re being paid while I do all the work,” he says sweetly. Louis flips him the finger and mumbles something he can’t quite make out. “I’m _teasing,_ ya git. You know I’m over the moon for the pair of you.”

“I know,” Louis titters. “Everyone is. Me and Hazza are the golden couple.”

“And this is why I glare,” Zayn sighs again, rolling his eyes rather dramatically, “because you are such a conceited prick.”

“I know,” Louis says again with a grin. “And oi, don’t be a dick, that’s your best mate you’re talking about there. A best mate who recently got engaged and might be on the lookout for a best man, just a little reminder for you there, Zaynie.”

Zayn’s eyes narrow. “You wouldn’t dare pick anyone else.” Louis just shrugs, moving his head from side to side before he starts writing again. “Oh, come on, Lou!”

Louis opens his mouth to reply, probably some witty retort that would distract the pair of them from working for even longer, but they’re interrupted by Simon coming into the main office, a distracted look on his usually stoic face.

There’s an awkward few moments of sombre silence in which Zayn and Louis trade confused glances until he clears his throat and pushes the sleeves of his cloak up his arms. “Everyone,” he announces, a deep frown etched into his features as people finish up their sentences before looking up at him, “everyone, it pains me to announce that we have word of a third death.” There’s a shocked gasp around the room and Simon nods gravely. “Indeed. Again, a poison, and again, a wizard. We are therefore deeming this case that of a serial killer, and myself and Potter have spoken and decided to assemble a specialist team for this.”

Zayn can’t help the muffled “shit, son,” he mumbles at Simon’s words, turning away hurriedly so he can pretend Simon hasn’t heard him even though he definitely has. Not that it matters, not when they’re dealing with three deaths in ten days, _bloody hell._ He starts fiddling with the rings on his fingers because he’s eager to hear more, though he doubts he’ll be privy to much more, let alone picked for the team of investigators. But like Louis had said, it would be pretty sick, even if it’s a rather horrible case.

“The six of you we’ve picked will work alongside Potter, Weasley, and I closely,” Simon continues, snapping Zayn out of his reverie. “I don’t want to make it sound like this runs deeper than it does, but the six we’ve picked are six of the best and brightest we have here, okay?”

People around the room nod and are already starting to look either smug or terrified at the prospect of being selected. Zayn gulps and scratches the back of his neck.

“I’m not gonna make some big deal out of this, because really we just need to get started on the case so I’m just going to ask Tomlinson, Pinnock, Lucas, Lloyd, Malik, and Thirlwall to come with me, alright?”

Zayn’s head snaps up and he sort of stares at Simon for a second, completely stunned. Of all the people who he’s sure deserve to get picked he is not one of them. Like, he’s _good –_ he’s bright and fastidious and quick to pick up on things – but Leigh-Anne is one of the brightest young Aurors he’s ever come across, and Louis’s sharp as anything when he’s paying attention. He knows Stan was the year above him at Hogwarts, and him and Louis were good friends before Louis took his year out and moved down to Zayn’s year.  He knows the other two as drinking buddies, mainly through Niall and Perrie, but aside from that they’ve all run in different circles and he’s unsure of what to make of the fact he’s joining them.

He’s vaguely aware of Simon telling the rest of the group something about signing non-disclosure agreements about this, but he can’t really hear it over the thumping of his heart and the babbling of his best friend.

“Bro,” Louis hisses, grinning over at him and holding out his fist for Zayn to bump. “Bro, this is so sick! We get to be fucking crime fighters together!”

“Louis, don’t say it like that,” Zayn admonishes, but he’s smiling in spite of himself because he’s proud of him and Louis anyway. “But yeah, this is pretty sick.”

There’s sudden scrabbling around him, and Zayn twigs they’re meant to get up and move into a separate room from the main office. He hurriedly screws the lid on his bottle of ink and shoves his stack of parchment into his drawer before he grabs his quill and his jacket and follows Louis out of there into the hallway, and down the hallway towards the end where there’s an entranceway covered by a portrait of a wizard Zayn doesn’t remember being there when they got in this morning.

Not that anything would really surprise him anymore.

Once the group approaches it, Simon clears his throat, points his wand so it lines up with the tip of the portrait’s wand and says, “ _Aperire Ostium!”_

“That’s the password, if you will,” Simon explains. “It should only work for your wands. I’ll explain more when we get inside. Make a note of it, remember it, whatever – and I’m talking specifically to you, Tomlinson.”

“What?” Louis cries indignantly, a hand over his heart. “Why would you accuse me of forgetting, Mr. Cowell? That’s _hurtful._ ”

Simon just shoots him a look. Zayn nudges their shoulders together teasingly and Louis glares at him. “Anyway,” he continues, and steps through the portrait into the room that’s opened up. “This is where you as the team will be working for the foreseeable future. Potter and I have spoken to the Minister of Magic about this case and we’ve all agreed that discretion is key. We will therefore limit the conversations and the theories to inside this room, and if you go against that we will erase your memory and you’ll be back to the desks, you understand?”

 Now, that’s quite a terrifying prospect. Zayn nods hurriedly, then Simon smiles at the group, an uncharacteristically bright grin that takes Zayn aback.

“Good,” he hums. “Now that the unfortunate yet sadly necessary threats are out the way, welcome to your new office.”

Zayn lets himself take in the new surroundings around him. It’s a huge room, with one huge round table in the centre and then mismatched desks pushed into the corners. On each desk is a file, presumably individual breakdowns of the case, and the large wall at the front has various photos and notes stuck to it. Zayn recognises the two women from the case file from last week, but next to them now is the photo of a middle aged man, stout and bald with a pair of horn-rimmed glasses on his nose. He has the same sad smile on his face as the other two and Zayn’s heart feels like it slams against his ribcage when he realises that this must be the third victim.

He does another double take when he twigs that there are two people sat at the centre table, and those two people are in fact Ron Weasley and Harry Potter.

“Christ,” he hears Louis mutter beside him, “I didn’t even realise they were here.”

Completely star-struck, Zayn just continues to stare at the famous pair, mouth agape and eyes wide. In his eight months working as an Auror both him and Louis have only met Harry Potter and Ron once, and that was at their graduation ceremony. _Godric,_ this morning he was making notes on the dates of Muggle deaths in the North Lanarkshire area and now he’s about to solve a case with the two most prolific Aurors of their time. This is not how he expected the day to go, that’s for sure.

“Well, when you’re all done gaping at the rest of your own team,” Simon’s loud, booming voice cuts in, startling Zayn into snapping his mouth closed and taking a step back, “welcome to your new office.”

Harry Potter stands up then, pushing his glasses up his nose and beaming at the six of them. “Welcome,” he says brightly. “It’s nice to finally meet you all.” Nobody says anything, so he turns to Ron, and the pair of them share a laugh. “You don’t have to look at me like that. I was a young Auror like the lot of you once too. I know what it’s like to be given your first big case.”

“Weren’t you eleven though?” Zayn hears Louis blurt from beside him. Jade and Leigh-Anne gasp and Zayn has to use extreme self-control not to smack him.

Harry Potter, on the other hand, just laughs even more. “Not when I was given my first case, Louis. Call that more reckless abandonment for the rules.” Ron snorts. Harry looks at him and chuckles. “Though I can’t say it hasn’t helped in my Auror training.”

“It was a good starting point,” Ron agrees playfully, “although I must say, Harry, I like this job better. Less imminent death every year, and less homework too.”

The group all laugh at that, except Louis, who seems to be having some internal crisis at the fact that Harry Potter just addressed him personally without an introduction.

“Anyway, we need to get to work,” Harry says, gesturing for them all to sit at the big round table. They sit, Zayn nestled in between Louis and Cher, and Harry walks around so he’s stood in front of the long wall with the case notes pinned to it.

“Simon tells me you already know the basic details of the deaths of Evangeline Carter and Nafeesa Bhamra.” Zayn nods. “Okay, good. Well, not _good,_ but it’s good that you’re up to speed.” He pulls his wand from his robes and points to Evangeline’s photo. “Evangeline Carter, fifty-two, a mum of two, Essex. Died from hemlock poisoning.” He then points his wand to Nafeesa. “Three days later, Nafeesa Bhamra. She’s thirty-six, a mum of two, dies from arsenic poisoning.”

He pulls a face as he turns to the next bloke. “Now, this is the latest death. Happened six days after Nafeesa’s. Guy Carston, forty-one years old, father of two, Worksop, Nottinghamshire.” He raises his eyebrows. “Anyone noticing any immediate correlations?”

There’s a pause. “They’re all parents,” Jade offers shyly. “They each have two kids, but I don’t know if that means anything.”

“Spot on, Jade,” Harry says, sounding pleased. Jade blushes. “Not only do they have kids, but each of them has a kid that’s due to start at Hogwarts this coming September.” He taps his wand against the palm of his hands a few times. “It may seem like a flimsy link, but it’s a potential start.”

Nobody says anything for a few moments. Zayn’s mind is whirring a mile a minute, wondering what the hell any of this could mean. Do they want their children to not start at Hogwarts for some reason? But then why kill the parents? Why kill anyone at all?

“None of this makes any sense,” he huffs under his breath, momentarily forgetting where he is.

“You’re not wrong, Zayn,” Harry says, which startles him back to reality. “The murders have occurred so close to one another, and in all my years as an Auror I’ve never seen a case like this. It’s unprecedented.”

“Do you think whoever is doing the killing is going for the shock factor then?” Stan asks.

“Almost definitely,” Harry replies. “Ron and I were saying yesterday that we wouldn’t be surprised if the killer slowed down their actions, but still kept up a routine. They have our attention, and the Prophet’s attention, which is undoubtedly what they want. These kind of acts are often meant to terrify more than they’re about the killings themselves.”

“But who do they want to terrify?” Jade asks. “Other parents into pulling their children out of Hogwarts?”

“I don’t know,” Harry says. “The thing is, you know what the safety at Hogwarts is like – it’s one of its most important features. It’s probably actually safer for kids to continue to go there rather than keeping them at home, as grim as that sounds.”

“The point of this group, really, is to try and get to the source,” Simon says from beside them. “Potter’s right; we’re more inclined to believe that these acts are to scare people in some way rather than whoever the killer is wanting to eradicate parents of children going to Hogwarts. Well, for now we don’t know nearly enough, but that’s where you six come in.” He gestures to the desks around them. “Your job is to hunt. We need you searching for small details we may have missed, hunting for clues through the barrage of information the Ministry is shoving our way daily.”

“You six are some of the brightest and bravest of the Aurors we have,” Harry chimes in. “You were all picked because we know you have eyes for the little things and you’re all very eager to improve and learn.” He too turns to gesture at the desks. “This is a big case, guys. We have no idea how long it’ll take to sort, nor do we know anything about what will happen at the end of it. But we do know we need diligent young minds who are keen to help us. Are you all definitely in?”

There’s a collective murmur of agreement around the group, and Harry Potter fucking beams at them like he’s never been more delighted.

“Excellent,” he shouts, throwing his arms wide. “Then welcome to my team.”

*

“Can you believe I got picked for this?” Louis whines over lunch, rather too dramatically for someone who just got their lucky break, Zayn thinks. “Harry’s gonna go spare. He already went spare at me last week for this.”

“What for?” Zayn asks through a mouthful of pasty. “You weren’t on the case then.”

Louis flicks a crumb off his arm distastefully. “I know, but he wasn’t happy. Kept going on at me about how he had a really bad feeling about it or whatever. He made me promise I’d be safe and stuff, which, _duh.”_ He pats Zayn on the arm. “Got me partner in crime to watch my back anyway, haven’t I?” Zayn grins dutifully through a mouthful of pastry and masticated meat and Louis’s grin changes to more of a grimace.

“Also we’re working in an office,” Cher points out. “We’re hardly Field Aurors, are we?”

“True,” Louis says. He unwraps his sandwich and takes a giant bite. “He’s just a daft git, bless him. I’m excited for this anyway, it’s a sick case to be put on.”

“It really is,” Jade agrees. “Can’t believe they picked the six of us. We’re gonna make a great team, squad.”

“Us six losers, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Simon Cowell, bam,” Leigh-Anne says, shimmying her shoulders excitedly, her wild curls hitting Stan in the face and making him splutter a bit. “Whoops, sorry babe.”

“Oh no,” Louis says suddenly. He looks a little green.

“What?” Zayn asks, hand reaching out to touch him on the shoulder.

“I just realised something,” Louis tells him, eyes wide. He really doesn’t look very well all of a sudden. “I have to sit in a room with a man whose wife my fucking unbelievable _twat_ of a boyfriend named our bloody cat after.” He looks at the group a little desperately. “I swear to Merlin if any of you lot say a fucking word…”

The entire group explodes with laughter, hands slamming on the table and wild cackles filling the room. Louis glares at them all and starts protesting some more, but then the door opens and Harry and Ron step back inside, two hovering plates of food protected by a Warming Charm trailing behind them.

“Is everything alright?” Harry Potter asks, staring directly at Louis as he’s the only one currently not dissolving in a fit of giggles.

“Fine,” Louis squeaks out in a voice far too high-pitched for Harry to possibly believe that he is, in fact, fine. Harry’s eyes narrow but he moves past them easily, going to sit with Ron at the back desk with their lunch.

Zayn grins over at his still red in the face best mate and slings a casual arm over his shoulders. Despite the unpleasantness of the whole situation, he thinks he might really enjoy working here.

*

Their first week on the job passes in the blink of an eye. They’re kept busy with countless paperwork sent through from the Ministry and Zayn finds himself buried in piles of parchment laden with information that he didn’t even know the Ministry bothered keeping. He falls into a routine with it all and he’s actually thoroughly enjoying it, his new and somewhat limited sleep pattern be damned.

There are no new murders that week and while Zayn is really bloody happy about that, it is rather difficult trying to work out a clear correlation when there are only three victims. They haven’t really come to any further conclusions past Harry Potter’s theory of their children being of Hogwarts age, but still none of them can quite work out what it means, or if that’s even the connection at all. What’s possibly even worse than that though is that there’s a sort of eerie expectation that the next murder is going to occur any day now. Having had three occur in the space of less than ten days was terrifying in itself, but that was almost more comforting in that there was an expectation.

None of them are willing to believe that the murderer is anywhere close to being finished, however. It’s clear that whoever it is has a specific motive – one thing that they can definitely conclude is that these attacks weren’t random. They were very calculated and very carefully planned, which leads Zayn to believe that this has been going on for months somewhere. You don’t just murder three people in the space of a week in three different parts of the country without thinking it out.

That almost makes it scarier, because whoever they’re dealing with is clearly very clever, very aware of what they’re doing, and very, _very_ dangerous.

Their most important lead to date comes nine days after the six of them move into their new office. Zayn’s spent the day so far working with Jade and Stan looking way back into their family histories to see if they can spot any connections to any big wizarding events when Harry Potter comes in with a sour look on his face and a stack of photos in his hand.

“Everything alright?” Zayn hears Ron ask for the back of the room. He turns around and cranes his neck to watch their exchange not very subtly. Harry puts the photos down in front of Ron and starts muttering words to him that the rest of them can’t hear. There’s a sense of uneasiness in the room and as Zayn turns back to Jade and Stan, the three of them all pull identical grimaces at each other. Something is definitely up.

After a few more minutes of muffled swearing and conversing, Harry Potter clears his throat and gestures everyone up towards the centre of the room to gather and sit around the big centre table. Zayn puts down his quill and moves over to join the rest of the group, plopping down in a seat next to Louis. Louis shoots him the same look that Jade and Stan were wearing when Harry first came in, and Zayn just shrugs his shoulders back.

“Right,” Harry says loudly, tapping his wand against the wooden desk a few times to get everyone’s undivided attention, “we think we have a lead.” He hesitates. “No, actually, we know we have a lead. But it’s… it’s delicate, let’s put it that way.”

“Delicate how?” Simon says, crossing the room in long strides. Zayn almost jumps, having not heard him come in.

Harry pulls a face. “We found some footage on Muggle CCTV on all things.” Zayn’s brows furrow in confusion. “You all know what that means, right?”

Zayn shakes his head, then turns to see Jade, Stan, and Cher also staring at him blankly. Harry sighs.

“Can one of our Muggleborns maybe help?”

“CCTV is like Muggle security,” Louis explains, turning in his chair to the rest of the table. “There are CCTV cameras up around most places in Muggle England, and probably the rest of the world now, to be fair, and they, like, have a constant record feature so if something happens then there’s always going to be photo evidence.”

“Exactly,” Harry says, and Louis leans back in his chair, pleased. “So we have connections to some parts of the Muggle CCTV network, in some of the places where there have been more notorious crimes and such, and Scotland Yard actually alerted us to this because again, it’s completely unprecedented.”

With that, he takes one of the photos from the pile and sticks it to the wall. “ _Engorgio,”_ he says, pointing his wand to it, and after a couple of seconds the photo fills the wall much like a projector screen would. The picture shows a figure milling back and forth in a dark room, opening and closing tall, glass cabinets and placing stuff from them on a desk littered with papers and books. It’s an odd little room, and not one Zayn recognises from the Ministry. He does, however, recognise the figure, and his stomach lurches and drops so fast.

“Is that… is that _Liam?”_ he hears Louis beside him gasp. “Liam Payne?”

“Oh, you know him?” Harry asks challengingly. Zayn nods beside him dumbly.

“We – me and Lou, oh and Cher – we were in his year at Hogwarts,” he croaks, shaking his head disbelievingly. “He… we didn’t really run in the same circles but we definitely knew him.” He turns his head to look at Cher, who was in Slytherin with Liam so probably knows him the best out of the three of them, and she looks even more stunned than the pair of boys, jaw open and eyes wide.

“He… yeah, we were same year, same house,” she stammers out after a few seconds. “Liam… he… wait, what’s his involvement? Or his alleged involvement, because the Liam Payne I know wouldn’t hurt a fucking fly.”

Harry holds up his hands. “We are absolutely not saying he is the one responsible for the deaths of these people. It’s too early to say anyway. _But_ what you’re seeing here is definitely an association.” He uses his wand to tap the picture. “Liam Payne, twenty-two years old, just finished his apprenticeship in one of our very own departments. This means he has permitted access to our stock rooms, and as you can see here, he chose one that’s pretty much abandoned.” He coughs, red tinging his cheeks. “In fact, I, er, I actually asked Minister Lovegood to have this one closed down because we just don’t use it anymore, but I guess she forgot.”

Ron groans from behind him. “Honest to Gryffindor, Luna’s got her head in the clouds. She’s a bloody brilliant woman, but sometimes I wonder what goes on in her head.”

“Indeed,” Harry agrees sheepishly. “Anyway, unfortunately for us, Minister Lovegood didn’t actually have this storeroom closed like I’d advised, and Mr. Payne is completely within his rights and jurisdiction, if you will, to go in and collect its contents. Which as you can see here includes…” He taps the photo again and enlarges it further, so one of the vials on the table’s label can be read, “Arsenic.”

“Bloody fuck,” Louis swears beside Zayn. “Who’d have thought it, young Liam Payne whose had a crush on Zayn since we were fifteen?”

“Louis…” Zayn hisses in a warning tone, but it’s too late.

“Liam Payne has a crush on you?” Harry fucking Potter asks Zayn directly. He hesitates but he does nod, albeit rather forlornly. “Still?”

Zayn pulls a face. “Like, not like he did at Hogwarts, definitely not. Back then he used to, like, watch me over his books and stuff. Stupid, childish stuff. But now he just… he gets a little flustered around me still, that’s all.” He’s flushing, he knows he is, and he can practically feel everyone’s eyes boring into him. “What?”

Harry’s just watching him with an amused smirk on his face. “Interesting,” is all he says for a moment, and then, “we could use that to our advantage, you know.”

“What do you mean?” Zayn asks sceptically. “You want to use me to get close to Liam somehow?”

“Well, I was just going to suggest that we use you to make him more flustered and then try and prise some information out of him that way, but your idea sounds better,” Harry says. “Like you and Cher both said, I don’t think he’s the murderer – the position he’s put himself seems too obvious, and look.”

He taps the photo again, this time zooming in on his face. Although the CCTV footage is grainy, Zayn can still make out that his eyes aren’t actually looking at what he’s doing, and his body looks too rigid and robotic, almost, for it to look like he’s in full control.

“Do you think he’s being Cursed?” Zayn asks warily. “That… that looks like it could be the Imperius Curse, don’t you think?”

“Precisely what me and Ron just said,” Harry tells him, nodding approvingly. “It does appear that Mr. Payne is being used as more of a pawn than he is the actual murderer, but then again we can’t leave any stoned unturned. For all we know, he could be and he wants to divert the suspicion away from himself.”

“But the motive doesn’t fit,” Cher argues from across the table. “Liam’s not a hurtful person in the slightest, I don’t get it.”

Harry just shrugs. “I’m sorry, Cher, but I don’t know what else to tell you. The evidence is there.”

Cher slumps in her seat. “This is wrong,” she says to Jade next to her. Jade just pats her on the shoulder.

“Anyway, back to how Zayn can be helpful,” Harry says. “What would be the easiest way for you to get close to him, do you think?”

“Liam would say yes if Zayn asked him out in a heartbeat,” Louis says loudly, a little too gleefully for the circumstances. “Honestly, he’s been _gone_ for Zayn since we were teenagers.”

“ _Louis,_ ” Zayn hisses indignantly. He fights back the urge to swat his best friend on the arm and turns to Harry instead. “I don’t want to do that to him. I don’t want to betray his trust like that.”

“Are you friends, like, at all?” Harry asks curiously. Zayn shakes his head. “And have you got many mutual friends?”

“Um, my ex-girlfriend is seeing his best friend,” Zayn tells him awkwardly. “And I still talk to Perrie quite a lot, we’re still super close.”

“Would she tell her new boyfriend about what you’re doing?”

Zayn shakes his head again. “No, she’s not like that. She’s a good secret keeper.”

“Then I don’t see the problem,” Harry says. It’s not unkind, but rather still holds the curious edge like his earlier words. “This could be an important breakthrough in the case, Zayn. You could really move us forward.”

“I… what would I even have to do?” Zayn asks, and he doesn’t mean for his voice to sound as desperate as it does. He can feel his heart hammering against his shirt, and he swears he’s going to murder Louis the second they’re out of the Ministry. “Like, get close to him how? Dating him still doesn’t mean he’s gonna tell me anything.”

“True, but you’ll be closer to him,” Harry explains. “If you go to his house, then you might find something out. I don’t really know, you’ll just learn him a bit more intimately.”

Zayn plainly ignores Louis’s ugly snort and winces at the thought. “Isn’t there some kind of – oh I don’t know, some kind of ethical clause against this? What you’re asking me to do is really quite deceitful and, like, what if Liam’s just a pawn? What if they are just Cursing the poor bloke? What do I do then?”

“To be fair, Zayn lad, it’s not hugely ethical to go around putting poison in people’s meals,” Ron chips in. “If you can put a stop to that, or even take us a little further in the case, don’t you think it’s worth it? The best that can happen is you help us apprehend a murderer, and the worst that can happen is that you hurt the bloke’s feelings a bit when this all comes to an end.”

Fair point.

“Okay…” Zayn says slowly. “So we date, yeah? And I’m sort of an undercover boyfriend slash investigator slash protection figure, is that right?”

“Basically,” Harry agrees. “If he is being controlled then you need to make sure that it doesn’t go much further than that. If he starts to exhibit signs of other Curses – Merlin forbid things like the Cruciatus Curse – then you let us know immediately and we’ll take extra action.”

“This all seems a bit much too soon,” Zayn protests, but it’s weak. “Can’t you just talk to him? Get his boss to ask him to check in with his supplies or something?”

“We’ve spoken to Neville about it actually, and he said much the same as Cher here – Liam’s not the type of person to go about taking poisons and such for no reason.”

“Mostly we’ve concluded that we just need to delve a bit deeper,” Ron says. “So no alarming anyone, especially Liam, because ultimately that could jeopardise the case or even his safety. We just need a bit more time, basically.”

“And that’s where I come in?”

“That’s where you come in,” Harry confirms. “Obviously we’ll need to discuss it a bit more because we came up with this plan in, like, ten minutes but honestly, Zayn, you doing this could change the whole case.”

Zayn squirms uncomfortably in his seat and pointedly doesn’t look at Louis.

“We’ll even pay for your dates?” Harry offers. “Charge them on the Ministry card, meaning you at least get decent meals out of it?”

Zayn still doesn’t say anything. It still feels _wrong,_ but maybe Ron’s right, maybe he does need to just get some perspective. If it helps the case, then that’s all he wants to do, really; plus he’s getting free food out of it.

And it’s not even like it’s Liam being Liam that’s the problem here. Sure, he’d really prefer it if he wasn’t going on dates with a suspected murderer, but it might actually be quite nice to ultimately be wined and dined by someone who is keen to be in Zayn’s company rather than third wheeling Louis and Harry _again._ And even if it does feel a little unethical, Ron has a point – he can stop pretending once they get more leads in the case and the worst that can happen is Liam gets a little miffed, right?

“Okay, I’ll do it,” he says hoarsely. Harry’s face lights up and Louis snorts again next to him, and this time he does slap him. “ _But_ I’m going to do it properly, alright? I’m not gonna lead him on, I’m going to date him like I’d date someone else, yeah?”

“Absolutely perfect,” Harry beams. “Exactly what we need.”

“And I’m not going to report everything and have you laugh at him,” Zayn says forcefully, “because that’s really wrong. I’m only letting you in on what’s relevant to the case. Because as you said, at the moment he’s only a suspect, and possibly unsafe, so I’m going to go with that. Innocent until proven guilty and all that.”

He’s not sure where this burst of confidence about it came from, nor is he sure why he’s suddenly so adamant on depending the lad when usually he feels rather awkward around him, but he’s sticking to his guns. The rational part of him tells him there’s no way in hell Liam is involved in the ways that people are suggesting, so he’s going to treat him as such or else he worries that his nerves and suspicion will interfere with keeping this genuine.

“Okay,” Harry says simply, “fair enough. You’re a big boy and you’re also a trained Auror, so I trust you to know what you’re doing.” He takes the photo down from the wall and tosses it back onto the table, then reaches across to shake Zayn’s hand. “You’re doing us a solid one, my friend.”

Zayn blushes again, but shakes Harry’s hand back. “Um, so when do, um, I need to ask him out on this date?”

“The sooner the better, I think,” Harry says. “Ron and I will get you your new job contracts to sign this afternoon and prep you through all that, and then you can think about doing it sooner rather than later.”

“New job contracts?”

“Yes, you’re a Field Auror now,” Harry tells him proudly. “You’re still on the team, and you’ll still work here during the day; we’ve just gotta make sure you’re aware of the risks, _oh,_ and you get paid a little extra for your work outside the Ministry, of course.”

Zayn does crack a smile at that. “Oh, really? _Sick.”_

“Sick indeed,” Ron laughs. “Right, come on then, come to the office at the back. I’ll get the contracts sent over right now; no time like the present and all that.”

A few hours later, Zayn finds himself with a new job title (he’s a Field Auror now! He has permission to use more difficult spells and can directly Apparate into the Ministry!), a fatter pay cheque, and the responsibility of asking Liam Payne out on a date sometime in the next week.

Whether that’s the start of something really bloody bad or really bloody good, Zayn doesn’t know. But he’s going to have to be the one to find out either way.

*

It takes him a full weekend to psych himself up to actually go up to Liam and begin the conversation that will eventually lead to him asking Liam out. It’s a painstaking process, and Zayn ends up drinking rather a lot of Fire Whisky as he paces his little flat and weighs up the pros and cons of what he has to do over and over in his mind. On the one hand, he’s getting paid a lot and he’s getting a fancy meal out on Thursday, all things going well. On the other hand, it could be with a murderer, or even worse, he could break the heart of the poor, unassuming lad whose had a crush on him for several years.

He can’t help but still feel uneasy about the whole thing, even though he’s well aware that there’s no way he can deny that Liam’s involved. After spending most of Saturday drinking and smoking and most of Sunday soul-searching with his housemate Niall, he reaches a conclusion with himself.

If Liam is the one who poisoned those people, he’s not going to feel too bad when he gets taken away for it. If Liam’s involved, then depending on how much he participated he’ll be punished accordingly, and again Zayn shouldn’t feel bad. If he’s being cursed, then he can protect the lad. And if it turns out that Liam’s not associated at all and all of this is just a giant fluke… well, then, it’s Zayn’s job’s fault. Not his.

Still, he feels guiltier than he thinks he should when he walks down the corridor that morning, heading towards the little tea room where he usually starts the day with Louis, but he’s threatened to Curse off Harry’s hair if he comes anywhere near it, so Louis sulkily backed away and disappeared into the office with a sigh and a pout. So Zayn enters the room alone, and begins making his coffee like he does every morning.

(And if his hands are trembling a little more than usual, nobody has to know but him.)

He keeps trying to convince himself he’s only nervous because Liam _could_ be a killer, he really could, but in his heart of hearts he knows he doesn’t believe that for a second, even if he really doesn’t know all that much about the bloke. It’s really because he feels like a phoney doing this, especially knowing how Liam feels about him. It’s such a shitty situation he’s put himself in, and there is no justification on earth that will ever convince him that what he’s doing is one hundred percent okay.

But apparently he’s doing it anyway.

A few witches and wizards duck in and out of the room, making tea and coffee with practiced magical ease, the occasional one reaching past Zayn to get to the little magical fridge that keeps food fresh for months. His fingers itch for a cigarette, but instead he focuses on making his second cup of coffee and making awkward small talk with one particular Witch who just won’t seem to leave.

Liam sidles in after another ten minutes of inane chatter, flushing a gorgeous pink the second he lays on Zayn. He feels his stomach lurch at the sight of it – _shit this boy really does like me what the fuck how am I meant to do this with another person staring me down oh my Godric –_ but the Witch suddenly pats him on the shoulder and winks.

“I see,” she stage-whispers. “You two have fun.”

Zayn gapes after her, astounded, breathing out a small, painful laugh and scratching the back of his neck. “Um, hi, Liam,” he gets out after a few seconds. “You okay?”

“Fine, yeah, fine,” Liam says, with a smile that looks half ecstatic and half forced. It’s a curious combination. “How are you?”

“Good, yeah, really good,” Zayn says with another breathy laugh, cursing himself internally. It almost feels like _he’s_ the one with the stupid crush here. “I, um, I wanted to ask you something, actually.”

“Yeah? Really?” Liam says questioningly. Zayn nods. “Um, okay, though I can’t think what you’d have to ask me.”

 “It’s, um, I wanted to, um, ask you, Liam, if you’d, er, like to go out with me some time?” Zayn stammers out in perhaps the longest winded sentence he could have. “On a date.”

Liam drops the spoon he’s holding into his coffee mug with a loud clatter. He’s not even looking at Zayn but Zayn can tell how red his face has gotten just from the question alone, and he feels infinitely worse. He's also inexplicably nervous now, heart thumping wildly under this jumper and he ends up stuffing his trembling hands behind his back so Liam can’t actually see them. He’s never really been nervous asking people out before – usually because everyone he’s asked has been a sure thing – but now he suddenly wonders what would happen if Liam were to say _no._ He hadn’t (possibly quite arrogantly) considered what would happen if Liam says no, which is actually looking more and more like it might be the case.

The silence is nearly excruciating at this point. Zayn can hear Liam taking deep, raggedy breaths and he’s almost tempted to reach out and touch the poor boy on the shoulder, but he doesn’t. He stays stock still, and after a few more minutes of pained quiet, he clears his throat.

“Um… Liam?”

“I…” Liam croaks, shakily drawing the spoon out of his coffee and dropping it clumsily into the sink, “I… is this a trick?” He blurts it suddenly, spinning his head to look at Zayn with wide, wild eyes and hurt written across his face. “I don’t… I don’t think I understand.”

“Um,” Zayn says dumbly, bouncing on his heels awkwardly, “I want to take you on a date. We could go for a meal somewhere, or drinks, or to the cinema…”

“I know what dates involve,” Liam says coldly. Zayn almost shudders at the sound of his voice. “I just… you don’t want to date me. This is a trick, isn’t it?”

“What?” Zayn squeaks, probably too high-pitched for the denial to be entirely convincing. “Of course not, Liam, what would I do that for?”

_He knows, he knows, he’s the killer, he knows you’re an Auror and so he’s put two and two together and he’s going to put poison in your coffee, oh shit, oh shit, oh fucking shit…_

“Louis or someone set you up to this,” Liam mumbles. _Godric,_ he’s so red and he looks almost like he might cry and this isn’t what Zayn wanted to do at _all_. “You… you know I fancy you and this is funny to you, but it’s not funny to me.”

“What, _no,_ ” Zayn insists hurriedly, hand covering his mouth in horror at the realisation. Liam is genuinely terrified that this is a setup on Louis’s terms, not the Ministry’s. Holy shit. “It’s not, honestly, this is just me, I swear to you. I… I know you fancy me and I just… I needed to get my head around my own feelings before I could, you know, act on it.”

_You’re a liar you’re a liar you’re going to give him a false sense of hope and it’s going to tear him down some day…_

“What?” Liam says, his voice sounding thick in his throat. “I… but… _what?”_

“I… I like you, Liam,” Zayn says, swallowing nervously. “I want to take you on a date, I really do.”

“Really?” Liam says again, like he’s still unsure. Heat is still prickling at Zayn’s neck and he’s pretty sure he’s sweating, but he nods adamantly.

“Absolutely,” he affirms. “You, er, you’re gorgeous and I’ve been thinking about it for a while. And, you know, no time like the present.”

There’s a pause for several beats and then Liam’s face breaks out into the biggest grin that Zayn has ever seen. He looks like a kid at Christmas, one who can’t believe they’ve been given the present they’ve been handed, and he sounds like he’s biting back a delighted laugh when he next speaks.

“Fuck, okay, wow, then yes, I would really love to go out with you, Zayn,” he beams. “If you’re sure? Oh god, are you absolutely sure?”

Zayn can’t help but laugh too because Liam is so endearing in the moment and it hits him hard how much he wants to keep making him smile. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? You’re fit, you like the same stuff as me, you’re… you’re really excited, oh my goodness.”

“Sorry,” Liam says, giggling. _Godric,_ Zayn did not sign up for this, and he hates the way he feels endeared by it. Louis would be snickering and probably throwing teabags at him if he knew. “Sorry, I just…” He shakes his head and composes himself for a second, then grins over to Zayn again. “I haven’t been asked on a date in a really long time.”

“Well, you know, same,” Zayn says shyly. “Um, so, dinner? My treat, of course, since I asked you.”

“Dinner sounds lovely,” Liam replies, sounding equally as shy. “Do you want to choose the place? I’m pretty easy.” There’s a pause and then his mouth drops open, hands floundering up and down awkwardly. “Shit, oh my god, I mean…”

Zayn can’t help the startled laugh that barks out of him, and in a couple of seconds Liam joins in rather awkwardly, the blush on his cheeks never faltering. “I, um, that’s good to know, I guess,” is all he can think to offer. Liam laughs again, this time louder and less embarrassed. It’s a gorgeous sound.

For the first time since they were at Hogwarts together, Zayn properly takes in the sight of Liam Payne. Back in the days of awkward teenage growth and confusing sexuality crises, Zayn knows he would have hardly spared Liam a second glance. In those days he was average height and build, with painfully straight hair (Zayn remembers the potion that was all the rage back then), expensive clothes, and an exceptional reluctance to bond with those outside of his own Slytherin. He was the kind of kid that Zayn hadn’t really liked, mainly because he had what Zayn saw as an unbearable sense of entitlement over a lot of the other students because he was slightly richer and of a more well-to-do wizarding family. That, and the fact that Zayn was pretty used to being adored at Hogwarts, but he found the attention that Liam gave him stifling and rather annoying, much preferring to actually talk to people than admire from afar.

He seems leagues away from that boy now. He’s tall, lean, with a body that looks like careful attention is paid to its upkeep. If Zayn didn’t know him and saw him in a pub or bar, he probably wouldn’t waste time in going over there and making himself known. Not only that, he’s still got the same dopey eyes that he had back then (he’s always been a bit rubbish when it comes to a nice pair of eyes) but this time they seem more real, more alive, more… determined, almost.

In short, Liam Payne got hot, Zayn never took the time to notice, and he’s a terrible human being because Liam’s face is lit up like the Great Hall at Christmas and Zayn is a fucking phony.

“So Thursday, yeah?” he hears himself saying, because he kind of wants to get out of there _now._ “How does the Three Broomsticks sound?”

“Sounds really lovely,” Liam says, so sincerely that Zayn cringes and prays it doesn’t show up on his face. “Do you want to make reservations or shall I?”

“I’ll do it, I don’t mind,” Zayn says. “Is half past seven a good time for you?”

“Yeah, um, that sounds really great, Zayn,” Liam says, and he blushes again. They sort of just awkwardly stare at each other for a couple of seconds before Zayn catches himself and gestures to his coffee.

“I should, you know, get back to work,” he says meekly, and Liam nods hurriedly.

“Yeah, me… me too,” he says. “Thursday, cool, okay.”

“Thursday,” Zayn repeats. “I’ll see you later, alright?”

“Bye, Zayn,” Liam says, his grin so wide it looks almost painful.

He listens to Liam’s footsteps disappear down the corridor, the faint clip-clopping of his heels fading quiet, unlike the beating of Zayn’s heart. He stays in the tea room for a few more minutes, using extreme self-control not to whack his head against the window a few times.

_What are you getting yourself into, Malik?_

He’s done it, though. He’s got a date with Liam on Thursday, and he’s going to enjoy it. He can at least get himself a free meal out of it, even if it turns out to be a dead end.

With a long sigh, he decides he’s run out of tangible excuses to stay in this dingy little room so he heads off back to the office, raising his wand and murmuring the password before he steps through.

The reaction is almost eye-rollingly predictable. The group are sat in the big table in the middle, most of them holding mugs in their hands and talking lowly. The murmuring turns to silence the second Zayn comes into view, though, and he rolls his own eyes as all seven of them raise their eyebrows at the exact same time.

“Morning,” he says casually, unwinding his scarf from around his neck. “What are you guys talking about?”

“Who cares?” Louis says, which makes everyone laugh, so Zayn assumes it was probably about him and Liam. “What happened?”

“We’ve got a date on Thursday,” he says, grinning. “Three Broomsticks for a meal. We’ll see how it goes, I guess.”

“Good on you, Zayn,” Harry Potter says loudly over the wolf-whistles of the rest of them. “We’ll get you some more briefing done on the day then, talk about what we want you to say and what we don’t want you to say, that kind of thing.”

“Okay, great,” Zayn says, uneasiness rolling back into his gut. “Um, what do I do now then?”

“Come join us as we discuss possible links in locations,” Harry Potter says. Zayn nods, pulls up a chair obediently, and gets to work with the rest of them.

*

Zayn’s wearing so much product in his hair he can barely move his own eyebrows. He’s been staring at his own reflection for a good ten minutes, trying to pat down particularly tricky wispy bits, but whatever potion he stole out of Niall’s room has hardened like a shell on his head and he’s starting to regret it.

“Niall!” he yells, then points his wand at his head. “Fuck this,” he curses. “ _Deprimo!”_ The potion starts to soften with a hiss, and Zayn casts it again to get rid of it completely. “Niall!” he calls again. “Help me.”

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” Niall yelps, watching as Zayn squirts another handful of the potion into his palm. “Zayn, that’s too much!”

Zayn glares at him. “How much do I need then?”

Niall steps forward and presses his fingertip into the top of the glob on Zayn’s hand, collecting up the barest minimum. He carefully touches it into Zayn’s thick fringe, and it immediately sticks up into an attractive, well-groomed quiff. Niall rolls his eyes.

“Like, the barest minimum, you tit,” he says with an eye-roll. “That’s expensive stuff, bloody hell. You arsehole.” He casts _Scrougify_ to clean Zayn’s hand and Zayn just smiles sheepishly.

“Sorry, mate,” he says, wrapping an arm around his neck and kissing his cheek. “I’ll replace it for you, I promise.”

“What’s gotten your knickers in a twist?” Niall says, cuddling Zayn back easily. “It’s only a first date. You’re never like this before a first date.”

“That’s because I’ve never gone on a first date so important before,” Zayn explains, voice muffled by Niall’s hoodie.

“I’m telling Perrie you said that.”

Zayn pulls back. “Don’t be a knob, you know what I mean. It’s for the Ministry more than me, innit? This is my career.”

“Yeah, true, but also you’ve always had a bit of a thing for Liam,” Niall says. Zayn splutters and goes wide-eyed. “What? You think we didn’t know?”

“I do not have a thing for Liam,” Zayn squeaks. “I think he’s gotten fit, but there’s no denying that. I don’t have, like, a long-term crush on him.”

“Zayn, mate, you’re fooling nobody,” Niall says, brows raised. “Me and Louis haven’t just been teasing you for years for no reason. No smoke without fire.”

“Bullshit,” Zayn gripes. “I don’t have a crush on Liam.”

“Zayn, you’ve got a bit of a crush on Liam,” Niall says solemnly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You do. There’s no denying.”

“What the fuck?” Zayn whines, slapping both his hands on his cheeks. “What the _fuck?_ Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Zayn, mate, we literally did,” Niall says, groaning. “Like, on the regular for a good few years. Bloody hell, I didn’t realise you were this much in denial about it.”

“I…” Zayn starts, then coughs and straightens himself out a bit. “Well, you know. I’m going on a date with him now, so I guess, like, it doesn’t matter. This is a good thing. It’ll make it more believable?”

Niall just laughs some more. “I can’t believe you didn’t even know yourself. Merlin’s left bollock, that’s fuckin’ classic!”

“Shut it,” Zayn says warningly. He shakes his head, still baffled. “How did I not know?”

“Because you didn’t come and talk to your good mate Niall about it, and I am the opposite of denial,” Niall says, face serious for about two seconds before he falls about laughing again. “Zayn, geddit? Denial and my name’s Niall!”

Rolling his eyes, Zayn reaches over to get Niall in a headlock. “You’re awful,” he tells him, rubbing his fist into Niall’s scalp. Niall yelps and fights, and they end up wrestling until Zayn’s shirt is creased enough that he has to change and the redness in Niall’s cheeks doesn’t go down even as Zayn Apparates out of there.

He’s a few minutes early and Liam isn’t anywhere to be seen yet, so he tugs his coat a little tighter around himself and lights up a cigarette to calm his nerves a little. His hands shake around his wand, and after an awkward few seconds of trying to get it to light in the blustery January wind, he stuffs it away and focuses on the information he’s just been forced to take in in the last half an hour.

Because it was easy enough to pretend this was going to be somewhat easy when he thought he was just doing it for work, but now he’s realised that the reason he finds a lot of what Liam does is because he has a _crush._ Nobody told him he had a _crush on Liam Payne._ That really wasn’t supposed to happen.

Idly, he starts to wonder how long he’s had it for. He definitely hadn’t known, and now that he’s aware of it he’s not stupid enough to think it’s the kind of crush that will blindside him or anything. It’s just… it’s something he’s just going to have to keep in mind while this pans out.

He doesn’t really let himself think too much more about it though, because suddenly there’s a figure in front of him, beaming and bright despite the freezing cold.

“Hi,” Zayn says, taking one final drag of his cigarette before he drops it to the ground and hurriedly toes it out.

“Hi yourself,” Liam grins back. He looks good – tall and well groomed, with a dopey smile and cheeks pink from the chill. “Um, shall we go in? Like not trying to rush you, but, um, it’s a bit cold, isn’t it?”

“You’re telling me,” Zayn agrees, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s get going.”

The pair walks side by side, shoulders bumping occasionally as they approach the brightly lit pub. Liam opens the door and allows Zayn to step through into the warmth first, which is very cute and Zayn definitely does not swoon. One of the waitresses comes over and shows them to their table, then menus appear in front of them from thin air and they pick them up gratefully.

“Any drinks?” the waitress asks, pulling a scrappy pad of paper from her pocket.

“I’ll have a cider please,” Zayn says. “Liam?”

“Um, I’ll have a dark ale,” Liam answers. “Tom knows the one I like.”

“Excellent,” the waitress beams, then disappears over towards the bar. Zayn can’t suppress his dopey smile.

“Didn’t know you were a regular here,” he says. “Would have picked somewhere a little more special if I’d known.”

Liam’s cheeks are pink. “Yeah, but I love it here. It’s one of my favourite places to come. I made friends with quite a few of the locals during Hogsmeade visits at school.” The tips of his ears go pink. “And after a while there were times when I was here outside of visiting hours.”

“Liam Payne, did you sneak out of the castle to come to a pub and get pissed?” Zayn asks, impressed.

“Not to get pissed, necessarily,” Liam says, and his grin matches Zayn’s. “I had friends here that I didn’t really have up at the school.” His gaze ducks a bit and he suddenly looks very focused on the menu. “I guess you kind of knew I was a bit of a loser in school, didn’t you?”

“I wouldn’t have said you were a loser,” Zayn says, brows furrowed. The thing is, seventeen year old Zayn would definitely have said Liam was a loser, but he’d sooner stab himself with one of the knives on the table than say it aloud. “I’d have said loner. Kept yourself to yourself.”

“I…” Liam starts, then pauses. “I wasn’t a big fan of a lot of people in our school year. You seemed one of the best but I’m not gonna lie, Louis is one of the most intimidating people I’ve ever met.”

Zayn cackles. “Louis’s intimidating?” The waitress comes back with their drinks then, and he shakes his head at Liam as she sets them on the table and thanks her before she walks away. “Louis’s like a kitten. Thinks he’s tough but really he’s just fluffy and a bit rubbish.”

Liam giggles into the back of his hand and Zayn has to use a _lot_ of self-control not to giggle with him. That was one of the most adorable things Zayn has ever seen. “That’s because you know him, I guess. He’s quite scary on the outside.” He takes a sip of his drink. “I remember once in Seventh Year, when I was walking out of the Great Hall, and to be fair to them I wasn’t really looking where I was going, but Harry Styles accidentally tripped over the tail of my robes. And I thought it was my end. Louis looked like he’d seen red and he was just shouting at me and I was…”

“Louis’s also a massively protective twat,” Zayn interrupts with a sigh, then rolls his eyes. “He’s a bloody good boyfriend to Haz, but my _Godric,_ do they need to chill sometimes. It’s so daft, watching the pair of them sometimes.”

“Are they one of _those_ couples?” Liam asks. Zayn nods.

“They just got engaged, which literally nobody is surprised about, but if I thought they were bad before they’re _awful_ now. They bicker and poke each other and scrap mercilessly but the second someone says something vaguely teasing they snap and wrap themselves around the other and…” He cuts himself off and throws his hands in the air. “Awful couple. I don’t know why I’m still friends with them.”

Liam laughs again, loud and unrestricted, and hurriedly covers his hand when he spots the surrounding tables looking at them in amusement. “Whoops,” he chuckles, and Zayn giggles along with him. “I guess we should choose what to eat.”

“Probably a good idea, I’m bloody starving,” Zayn tells him, picking up the menu. “Well, you’re a regular here, what would you recommend?”

Liam thinks for a moment. “Well, my usual choice is the pork medallions with truffle mash, or sometimes the lamb shank. Depends on how cold it is outside.”

“I can’t eat pork, I’m afraid,” Zayn says, pressing his lips together. “I’m a Muslim, you see.”

“Really?” Liam says, laying his menu back down on the table. “I didn’t know that.”

Zayn nods. “Yep, on my dad’s side. His family are from Pakistan but they came to England so him and his brothers could go to Hogwarts. Think my great-grandad was drinking buddies with Albus Dumbledore at some point.”

“That’s amazing,” Liam gapes at him. “Bloody hell, what a good piece of family trivia.”

“I know right,” Zayn laughs, taking a sip of his cider. “Now then, what is the chicken and rice here like?”

“Haven’t had it in years, if I’m being honest,” Liam says. “But I’ll tell you what is nice. The seafood risotto. That’s beautiful, proper fresh.”

“I’ll get that then, I think,” Zayn grins, setting his menu back down. “I love a good risotto.”

Liam beams like Zayn’s just told him something incredibly important. “And I think I’ll get the lamb shank. It’s cold enough for me to want proper stodgy wintery comfort food.”

“Can’t beat it sometimes, can you?” Zayn says. “My mum’s comfort food is one of those things I really miss now I live away from her, you know? There are days when I’d pay a small fortune for a plate of homemade curry with all the chutneys and naan.” He rubs his hands together. “Just beautiful.”

“My family aren’t big cooks,” Liam starts to say, but he gets cut off as their waitress from earlier and asks to take their order. They reel them off easily and then she disappears again, winking as she goes.

“She knows we’re on a date then,” Zayn snorts after she’s out of earshot. “Does she know you?”

Liam shrugs. “I don’t know her, I think she’s new.”

“Better than direct teasing, I suppose,” Zayn says. Liam nods his agreement. “Anyway, you were telling me about your parents.”

“Oh, yeah, just that they’re both pretty terrible at cooking,” Liam shrugs. He shifts in his seat, looking a bit awkward and closed off, and Zayn senses that parents are potentially a sensitive subject, so he changes it quickly.

“So remind me again what part of the Ministry you work in?” he asks. “I know it’s plant-related but I can’t for the life of me remember its exact name.”

Liam visibly brightens. “That’s okay, it’s a new division anyway. It’s called the Office of Peculiar Herbs and Shrubberies, so I work with difficult plants, basically. Me and my partner are currently trying to work out a way to calm Mandrakes down so you don’t have to wear those big earmuffs the entire time you’re dealing with them.”

Zayn lets out an impressed whistle. “Bloody hell, really? How’s that going?”

“Not bad, actually,” Liam says eagerly, and the change in him from a few moments ago, or even from the last time they spoke, is unbelievable. Talking about his work has Liam animated, bright and excited, and he babbles away cheerily about the sleeping draft that he and his partner think they could be close to perfecting. Zayn sits back and sips his drink, content with just listening for a bit and learning a bit more about Liam this way.

It doesn’t take a genius to work out that Liam completely and utterly adores his job. He talks about it in a way that Zayn’s pretty sure he’s never talked about his job, and it’s clear that he is incredibly good at it too. By the sounds of things the plan for them after they’ve finished the Mandrake draft will involve working with some new plants that have been discovered on a small island in Scotland that, if ingested, make you float several feet above the ground and keep you there until you’ve vomited them up. Now Zayn might not know anything about plants, but he can imagine that would be fun to work with regardless. He finds himself near howling as Liam tells him the story of the poor teenagers who discovered it and were left trapped in the air for a long time, and by the time the food is placed in front of them his stomach hurts from laughing and his cheeks hurt from the wide grin they’ve been permanently fixed in for the past forty minutes.

 “I have to say, I’m really bloody impressed,” Zayn says, spearing a mussel onto the end of his fork and taking a bite. It’s warm and perfectly cooked and really rather delicious. “Mmmm, both in your choice of dinner and your work. You sound like you really love it, Liam.”

“I do,” Liam smiles, pouring gravy over his food. “It’s my dream job, you know? Like, I always knew I was a total Herbology nerd but this way at least it’s being used for good, you know?”

Resisting the urge to choke on a mouthful of rice at that, Zayn nods and quickly drains his drink. “Yeah, definitely.”

“Sorry, I feel like this entire date has just been me talking about me, me, me,” Liam says, and he sounds a bit breathless. “Tell me a bit about you.”

“Um, well, I’m an Auror,” Zayn says, nerves creeping into his stomach and settling there like heavy rocks. “But it isn’t hugely interesting, not nearly as glamorous as people think.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

Zayn shoots him a teasing look, brows raised. “Last week I was making notes on every Muggleborn witch or wizard who had been in trouble for speeding or had a parking fine. It’s really not that glamorous, babe.”

It’s not a complete lie, which does make Zayn feel somewhat less guilty, but he doesn’t really focus on it, not with the way Liam flushes at the word ‘babe’ and then repeats it quietly under his breath.

“Did I say something you like?” he teases, winking as he takes another bite of risotto. “You look a little flushed, babe.”

“Zayn,” Liam whines, ducking his head a bit to hide his blush. “You… you’re terrible. You know you’re making me blush.”

“You’re pretty when you blush,” Zayn tells him smugly.

“You’re just really pretty,” Liam says, all in one breath. Zayn closes his eyes and beams even wider. He feels like a Third Year with a dumb crush, but he doesn’t give a shit right now because when he opens his eyes Liam hasn’t stopped blushing or grinning either, and Zayn doesn’t want him to.

“Thank you,” is all he can muster up without putting himself in danger of swooning. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“I still…” Liam starts to say, then busies himself with cutting at his lamb instead. “Nah, I can’t, it’s too embarrassing.”

“No, tell me,” Zayn prompts, nudging Liam with his foot. “Please.”

“It’s just…” Liam says, hurriedly shoving in a mouthful of roast potato so he can save himself for a few more seconds. He swallows loudly and dabs at his lips with napkins before he carries on. “It’s just that you’re _you,_ and I’m this massive loser that you seemed to avoid back in school. I feel like I’ve spent so much of my life trying to push aside my dumb crush on you and now we’re here and it’s just... just a bit surreal, is all.”

“Liam…” Zayn says, rather stunned. “Liam, I’m just a dumb person too, you know. I’ve been crushing on you for a while as well.”

“No, you haven’t,” Liam says, but he’s not denying, more disbelieving. “Don’t lie to me, Zayn.”

“I have,” Zayn insists, setting down his cutlery and reaching across the table to pat Liam’s hand. Liam looks like he’s about to jump, but Zayn strokes a thumb over his hand and smiles softly. “No, I promise you I have. It took me a while to get there, mind, but I’ve been… I’ve always had you, like, in the back of my mind as someone I, um…” He cuts himself off too, cheeks flaming. “Now I’m embarrassed,” he laughs, pulling his hand back to scratch at the back of his neck. “Bloody hell, I didn’t realise we were turning each other into bloomin’ Third Years with dopey crushes.”

Liam laughs loudly at that, which eases out some of the tension. The few looks other patrons shoot them curiously are worth it to watch Liam giggle and squirm, embarrassed but delighted. It’s a sound he wants to hear a lot more of in the near future, that’s for sure.

“For the record,” Liam says once he’s stopped cackling, “I do think you’re very beautiful. And even if you don’t wanna go on another date with me after tonight, well, I just know I had a really great time. You’re gorgeous and funny and a great listener and I would really like to ask you out for our second date, my treat this time, but if you don’t want to I totally understand…”

“Liam, babe,” Zayn laughs, reaching forward to properly lace their fingers this time, “quieten down so I can say yes.”

“I… you wanna?” Liam says, startled. “Seriously? Like, for real?”

“Yes,” Zayn smirks, shaking his head rather fondly. “Seriously, like,  for real.”

And he means every word. This date with Liam has been so refreshing and so different from any date he’s been on in the past few years, with Perrie included. With Perrie, it was familiar and it felt like a long time coming. Yet this getting to know somebody new, the learning what makes them laugh, what different laughs they have, the understandings of what they like and dislike, what they’re passionate about or even something as silly as watching what pet names make them tick, is something Zayn hasn’t had in a long time, and he didn’t think he’d enjoy it nearly as much as he has.

The best part, Zayn thinks, is that there is a spark. He was sceptical at first, unsure of whether it would fizzle out quickly because he was nervous about giving away things about the case. But it’s not been forced, or awkward, or difficult to make conversation. In fact, it’s been better than Zayn could ever have expected, and the idea of a second date makes the nervous rocks in his stomach roll away easily.

For the rest of the date, conversation flows easily over another drink and big slabs of Victoria Sponge and ice cream. Liam compliments Zayn’s hair, and Zayn tells him how good he looks with a beard and his hair cut that length, and they share more dopey smiles and reminisce funny things that happened during their time at Hogwarts. Liam is really funny – clearly a bit of a people pleaser, but Zayn quite likes that about him (he’s never telling Louis or Niall) – and so sincere that Zayn could squeal.

The date ends with a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek, and the promise of a second date the following Wednesday. Zayn Apparates home, fumbles for his keys with cold fingers and lets himself in, where he’s greeted with the sight of Niall on the sofa with a pizza balanced on his belly. He snorts and rolls his eyes.

“What a greeting.”

Niall scrabbles to sit up. “You’re later than I thought you’d be,” he chirps, setting the pizza on the floor. “Get in here, tell me _everything._ I’ll get Louis on the Floo Network.”

“You’ll do no such fucking thing,” Zayn snaps as he unwinds his scarf from his neck and hangs up his coat. “It was a date, it was nice, I’m going out with him again next week, and that’s all you’re getting.”

“That’s all I’m getting?” Niall pouts.

“That’s all you’re getting,” Zayn repeats.  He flops down onto their armchair and throws an arm across his face. “It’s my pretend relationship with a boy I think I really fancy and it’s mine alone.”

“Merlin,” Niall mutters. “Do I need to fetch the sherry?”

There’s a pause and then, “yes, please.”

“Oh, Zayny, don’t mope,” Niall says hurriedly, scrambling into the kitchen for glasses. “You like him a lot, yeah?” Zayn nods forlornly. “Then don’t be sad. Celebrate your amazing date with a little toast and then you can panic about all of that when it actually comes to head, okay?”

“Why are you so sensible?” Zayn grumbles, accepting the glass gratefully and taking a sip. It burns just right, and he takes another sip appreciatively. He sighs. “I guess I can’t do much else though.”

“No, you can’t,” Niall says simply. “Drink your sherry, go to bed, have a nice wank about it, carry on with life in the morning. You’ve got another date next week, look forward to it! All shit to do with the case aside, he’s a nice enough lad and he’s a lad who likes you a lot and stuff. Just _be_ a couple. You’re good at that.”

Zayn sighs again, swilling his glass around a bit. “Okay, okay, I’ll do it. I’ll try not to think.” He pauses. “I’m not having a wank though. That’s weird.”

“Wanking is perfectly natural and I know you do it on the regular so don’t be a twat and just jerk one out,” Niall says all-too-cheerily.

“Niall!”

Niall just grins smugly and shoves another piece of pizza into his mouth.

Zayn drinks his sherry easily, then trots off to bed as the clock strikes about one. He pointedly does _not_ wank and falls asleep dreaming of big hands, of bright eyes, and the idea of maybe falling asleep next to Liam one day soon.

*

For their second date, Liam takes Zayn to a little Italian restaurant in Muggle London that he says is one of his favourites. They sit in there and talk for hours, consuming copious amounts of red wine and not-so-subtly Confunding the waiter into giving them more breadsticks after their plates of pasta have been cleared. Zayn learns a lot about Liam’s past, present, and future, and by the time the restaurant is dimming the lights and politely asking them to leave so they can close for the night, Zayn is ninety-nine percent sure that Liam is not only completely innocent, but probably the soulmate he wasn’t looking for.

And when they kiss before they part ways Zayn is pretty sure he’ll never have another first kiss like it. They meet in the middle without any words or thoughts; it’s just natural and wonderful. Liam kisses with intent and feeling, hands resting shyly but solidly on Zayn’s hips, lips slick, eyes squeezed shut. He tastes like basil, olive oil, and something delightful.

Zayn goes home feeling light-headed, dopey, tipsy, and like he’s about to embark on a pretty good new adventure.

He’s absolutely never mentioning any details of tonight to Louis, either.

*

The next few days at work sees Zayn, Louis, Jade, and Stan all pouring over huge books on potions and their origins. It’s not exactly Zayn’s idea of a fun afternoon, but Harry Potter and Ron both want to get a better idea of what the killer’s motive for using the types of poisons they have been would be.

“I just don’t understand,” Jade says, her accent coming out a little thicker than usual with distress. “Look at some of these – they kill you, like, instantly. One drop, you’re dead.” She tosses the book onto the table. “The killer wanted these people to suffer, didn’t he?”

“It does look that way,” Zayn says grimly. “But why these people? None of them have any connections to each other at all. That’s what’s really bothering me.”

“Well, let’s look at what is connected,” Louis offers. “So we’ve got three deaths, and all of them were by a poison rather than a Wizarding potion. That’s something, isn’t it? That whoever it is is using methods accessible to all? Well, not accessible to all, but ones that Muggles would know about too.”

“What do you mean?” Jade asks.

“Well, as I explained to Zayn earlier, arsenic is, like, a rather notorious Muggle poison, as is hemlock. My mum’s proper obsessed with crime shows and novels and stuff, there’s loads where those are the methods used to kill people. Bit old fashioned, mind, but yeah, Muggles know them.”

“Do you think that’s important?” Stan questions. “Do you think the killer wants Muggles to know about wizards?”

Louis shakes his head and Zayn says, “but then why wouldn’t he just start, like, casting spells in the middle of a busy street or something.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Louis agrees. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it was something to do with Muggles though. Dunno how yet, but this is some bullshit.”

“It’s like you said, some kind of Agutta Christ bullshit,” Zayn offers with a grin.

“It’s Agatha Christie, you moron,” Louis corrects, but then he freezes and his mouth drops open. Zayn can practically see the cogs in his brain turning, and his eyes gradually go wider as whatever idea he’s having starts to process.

“Lou?” Zayn asks. “Lou, what’s up? What have you realised?”

“Agatha Christie,” Louis repeats, then starts counting something out on his fingers. “Fuck, this is… this might be something.”

“What?” Zayn asks again. “What have you realised?”

Louis ignores him. “Ron?” he calls, spinning around in a rather uncoordinated fashion. “Ron, I’ve had a thought.”

“What’s up?” Ron asks from his own desk in the corner. He sets down his quill. “Is it a good one?”

“It might be a correlation between the deaths, but I’m not sure,” Louis says, but he sounds focused and pretty sure of himself. “Have you heard of Agatha Christie?”

Ron nods. “Sure. Mione reads a lot of her books, why?”

“She was a Muggle detective, yeah?” Ron nods again. “And she was able to see through people using these undetectable poisons, but the killer hasn’t even bothered to hide what he’s doing because we have spells, right?”

Ron’s brows furrow. “I’m not really sure where you’re going with this.”

“Can I see their files?”

Ron grunts a yes, standing up and bringing it up over to the big table in the middle. “Talk to me.”

The rest of the team gather round the table too, watching with interest as Louis examines the pages of parchment in front of him with furrowed brows. “There’s no information on here about whether they’re Muggleborn or Pureblood or what,” Louis says slowly. Ron looks at him curiously.

“Yeah, there’s not – the Ministry deemed it unnecessary a few years ago because of some issues they were having with Muggleborn prejudice,” he explains. “Why do you need to know?”

“Harry – my fiancé Harry – his mum was friends with Evangeline and I know she was Muggleborn, but came to Hogwarts and married into a wizarding family,” Louis says. “I don’t know the other two, but I think it would be worth checking to see their family background.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Ron agrees. He turns to the person next to him, which happens to be Cher. “Could you go and find that out please?” She nods then hurries off into the next room, and Ron turns back to Louis and claps him on the shoulder. “I think you may be onto something here, lad. Good thinking! So you think there’s a connection because they’re using a traditionally Muggle way of killing to kill Muggleborns?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it traditional, but it definitely could be a connection,” Louis says, looking mighty pleased with himself. “I think they’re trying to do it in a way that will scare Muggleborns first and foremost, because they’re likely to have more of a knowledge of these kind of things.”

It’s only a few minutes until Cher returns, clutching a piece of parchment with a triumphant grin on her face. “Lou was right!” she says excitedly, placing the parchment on the table in front of the group. “So here we’ve got Nafeesa, formally Khan, married to Amrit Bhamra. She married into the wizarding family herself.”

“Did she go to Hogwarts?” Ron asks.

Cher nods. “Yep, she did. And so did Guy, also a Muggleborn. His wife is actually a Halfblood, name’s Millie, but they met at Hogwarts, same as Nafeesa and Amrit.”

“So they’re all Muggleborns marrying into Pureblood or Halfblood families?” Ron clarifies. Cher nods.

“The thing is, though, that Evangeline was married to another Muggleborn wizard before her current husband. She’s got two kids, one by her first husband…”

“Beth Carter,” Louis supplies. Cher nods again.

“Yeah, and then Alfie Carter by her second husband, David. Beth took his last name after the divorce and they were living in that little village in Essex until her death.”

Zayn is very impressed with Louis right now.

“Merlin’s left bollock,” Ron murmurs, clearly feeling the same. “Well, Louis, I’ve gotta hand it to you, that’s a bloody good deduction you’ve made there.” He reaches forward and clasps his hand. “A _very_ good one. And this could tie in with the idea that they’ve got a kid of the right age just about to start at Hogwarts, couldn’t it?”

“So…” Zayn says slowly, “are you saying that the murders could have occurred under the motive of keeping non-Purebloods out of Hogwarts?”

Ron nods. “It’s a possibility we need to consider.”

“But is that stopping the kids from going?” Zayn asks. “Is young Alfie Carter not going to start at Hogwarts in September then?”

Ron pauses. “He’s still going to my knowledge, but… oh I don’t know. It could be more of a warning, perhaps?”

“Makes sense,” Louis chips in. “Stopping them going to Hogwarts would never work completely, McGonagall would make sure of it.”

“So would the Ministry,” Ron says. “Just out of interest, are any of you Muggleborn?”

Louis and Leigh-Anne both raise their hands.

“And Louis, your fiancé, is he…?”

“He’s a Pureblood,” Louis tells him. “His name’s Harry Styles?”

“Ahhh, yes, I think I remember Des Styles from when I was at Hogwarts, he was a Prefect when me and Harry were second years, I seem to remember,” Ron says, nodding approvingly. “Sounds like a good choice, that.”

“Thanks,” Louis replies, blushing and grinning at the floor.

“And you, Leigh?” Ron questions.

Leigh-Anne shakes her head. “Nothing serious. I just got out of a long relationship, actually, but he was a Muggle.”

Ron nods. “I see.” He scoops up the parchment on the desk and starts to stack it into a pile. “I think it would be particularly wise, then, for the Muggleborns among us to just be a little more careful. I don’t quite know how what any of this…” He waves the roll of parchment in his hand around a bit, “means ultimately, but I do think that young Louis here might be onto something.”

Louis looks a combination of affronted and pleased.

“I’ll go and talk to Harry and Simion about this immediately,” he continues, nudging his head towards their little office at the top of the room. “In the meantime, you six go and take your lunch. Merlin knows you’ve earned it after the morning we’ve had.”

Gratefully, Zayn ducks out of there, grabbing his jacket and fishing his cigarettes out of his pocket before anyone can call him back. Once he’s in the smoking area he lights one with a shaky hand, taking a long, therapeutic drag before he leans back against the wall. The rest of the smoking area is thankfully empty, so he’s able to take a few moments to himself to try and bring his whirring mind back down to earth.

It’s not long before Louis finds him though, wordlessly appearing at the doorway with a cigarette already in his mouth. He lights it easily, then goes and stands opposite Zayn and takes a drag. Zayn can feel his best friend’s eyes boring into him, and frankly it’s unpleasant. “What?”

Louis takes another drag. “Why did you flee?” he asks after a few moments. “Nothing even happened in there, and yet even just standing next to you I knew something was up. You were all shaky and trembly. So spill.”

“It’s not really anything,” Zayn says on his exhale. “It’s just not super easy to hear that kind of thing, and to hear Ron give you a personal warning, when there’s a chance I’m fucking dating someone whose involved.”

“You’re not really dating him though,” Louis points out. “It’s for the case, innit? And it’s not like you actually like him, is it?”

Zayn doesn’t say anything. Louis stares at him curiously, until he finally seems to twig and then splutters around the filter of his cigarette.

“You actually like him?” he asks incredulously. “After all this time, all these years of me ripping the shit out of you, it takes for him to be a potential accomplice in a murder case for you to actually develop feelings?”

“Will you keep it down?” Zayn hisses. He’s blushing, neck prickling uncomfortably under the collar of his leather jacket. “I don’t need you of all people to be a dick about this.”

“I just don’t get it, Zayn,” Louis says. “This makes no sense, you falling for him now. And you’ve only been on two dates!”

“Don’t you think I know all of this?” Zayn huffs. “I get it, it’s been two dates and I should be well aware that he’s a murder accomplice and there’s, like, viable proof of that. But… but he’s not like that now I know him.”

“Yeah, right,” Louis scoffs. “A murder accomplice is not going to act like they’re involved, especially to someone in the Ministry.”

“He knows I’m an Auror though,” Zayn points out through a cloud of smoke. "If he knows that and he is actively involved one way or another then surely no matter the crush he’s had on me for years, he’d avoid getting close to me at all costs?”

Louis raises his eyebrows. “I honestly don’t know if that’s too trusting of you or not, dear boy.”

“Lou, I’m serious,” Zayn snaps. “He’s a nice guy, he’s…” He drops his cigarette to the floor and stamps it out angrily, “he’s someone I could really get comfortable with, you know?”

“No, I don’t,” Louis says dismissively with a shake of his head. “The guy is an accomplice in a _murder case._ Like, you can’t even deny it because there’s fucking video footage as evidence.” He too drops the smouldering end of his cigarette, but into an ashtray where it fizzles away in a purple haze. He sighs. “I just worry about you, you know. I want you to be happy so fucking much, but not with a murderer, Zayn, Jesus.”

“He’s not a murderer though, I know he’s not!” Zayn all but shouts. “He’s a sweet, gorgeous, funny, sensitive guy who once panicked that I was hurt because he hugged me tightly.” He throws his hands up in the air. “I don’t know, Lou. All I do know is that I’m in too fucking deep.”

Louis pulls his cigarettes out his back pocket and moves forward to stand next to him. He lights one, takes a drag, and then hands it over to Zayn, who takes a long, grateful inhale. “You slept with him yet?”

“No,” Zayn grumbles. “We haven’t gone further than kissing. He seems really serious about this relationship already, Lou.”

“Bloody hell, how come?”

“Because he fancied me for so long,” Zayn remarks with a shrug. “Merlin’s left bollock, on our first date he didn’t fucking shut up about how long he’d fancied me and how fucking good my hair looked all Seventh Year.” At the memory he grins and stares at his shoes, because both he and Louis know that normally that would have been something that would have pissed him off, yet he fucking loved how Liam had just kept the sincere and heartfelt compliments coming all that night.

“Give me strength,” he hears Louis mutter, then suddenly the cigarette is snatched from his hand. “This isn’t the Zayn Malik I’ve grown up with. This isn’t the Zayn Malik who took eight months of shagging his best mate Perrie to realise that perhaps he wanted to move further, and this isn’t the Zayn Malik I know who once told me that one of his favourite things about his and Perrie’s relationship was the lack of mushy stuff.”

“I don’t wanna compare Liam and Perrie, that’s not fair,” Zayn argues. “I love Perrie and I’ll always love Perrie, we’re just never gonna be in love.”

“You’re not in love with Liam though,” Louis points out. “You’ve been on two dates and sometimes you eat lunch together. That’s only the start of a relationship.”

“He did ask me to be exclusive at the end of our last date,” Zayn says, and it comes out so dreamily that Louis pretends to gag. “Oh, fuck _off._ You can’t fucking have a go at me for anything regarding mushy stuff, you foul bastard.”

“Oh, I am well aware,” Louis says, leaning back against the brick wall. “But I’ve never pretended to hate it. I’ve had a boyfriend who loves that kind of crap for as long as I can remember and I’ve learned to accept that it is actually rather enjoyable.”

“For as long as you can remember being when you were both still children,” Zayn says haughtily, “so you can fuck off with any kind of sex judgment either. I don’t wanna force Liam into shagging me, and really I feel like it’s quite… oh, I dunno, unprofessional?”

“Mate, I’m not gonna have a go at you for sex-related anything,” Louis says with an eye roll. “I’m the one who made Harry wait, didn’t I? Fucking hell, he was always the randiest little thing and I had to be like _no, not until you’re sixteen_ for sooo long.”

“You genuinely waited until Harry was sixteen?” Zayn asks curiously. Louis nods on an exhale. “Bloody hell, I was so sure one of you would have caved before then.”

“Nuh-uh,” Louis says. “But it was a bit of a nightmare, let me tell you. Hardest year of my life, both literally and figuratively.”

“Absolutely foul,” Zayn says with a wrinkle of his nose. “I did not need to know that.”

Louis just shrugs again. “Yeah, well. I think we’re doing alright now.”

Zayn snorts. “Yeah, you fucking are, you lucky bastard.”

Louis hands the cigarette over to him again. “You’ll find someone, babes, you will. It’s probably not Liam, but you will get there. Good things come to those who wait.”

“Sage advice from the bloke who found the love of his life when he was, like, sixteen.”

Louis waves his hand. “Semantics. I didn’t know I’d actually end up getting married to the bloke then, now, did I?”

“Like there was ever any doubt,” Zayn says scathingly.

“Whatever, that’s not the point of this conversation,” Louis snaps, stamping his foot dramatically. “The point is, don’t let yourself fall for Liam, okay? You know how this is going to end already, Zayn. Either he gets arrested for murder and put in Azkaban, or he finds out that you played him this entire time for a slightly higher pay cheque. And I’ve heard long distance relationships aren’t that much fun. Where even is Azkaban?”

Zayn does snort out a laugh at that. “Funny, Lou, you’re funny.”

“I know,” Louis says solemnly. “I’m brilliant. And also hungry and quite chilly, let’s go inside, you mopey git.”

“Wanker,” Zayn fires back, but there’s no real heat behind it. “Can we go and get toasties?”

“We can get whatever you like, as long as it’s warm and there’s some form of cheese involved in the meal,” Louis grins, slinging an arm across Zayn’s back. They trundle back inside and towards the canteen, and soon Zayn forgets his imminent worries and focuses on warming back up with egg and chips and a cup of strong coffee.

*

The rest of January passes in a blur of hard work, Liam, and Harry’s seemingly insatiable need to get best friend opinions on even the minutest of wedding details. Although reluctant at first, Zayn takes it all head on and goes shopping with the pair for matching wedding bands and spends cold evenings nursing wine on their sofa as Harry contemplates the merits of deep indigo table cloths over peach or grass green. He wasn’t wrong – Louis pretends to scoff and acts like he couldn’t care less, but watching the pair of them bicker and then trade soft kisses of agreement makes Zayn grin and fawn. He’s over the moon for them, he really is.

With regards to his own love life, Liam’s wormed so seamlessly into it that he begins to feel more and more guilty every day. He hasn’t felt this way in a long time this early in a relationship, and despite what he said to Louis he finds himself comparing how he is with Liam to how he was with Perrie.

It takes several bottles of Pinot Noit and some drunk soul-searching with Niall (who roars with laughter at the mere thought of Zayn taking any specific advice from Louis and tells him to simply follow his heart) for him to conclude that he’s going to just let this thing with Liam be what it will be. As they discussed in the Ministry earlier, none of them are convinced that Liam himself is actually responsible for the direct murders, and as such Zayn feels less guilty about actually wanting to kiss his face. Growing closer will only serve as an excuse to keep him protected at all times, anyway, and as such he can get even closer to finding out who is actually behind this.

The fourth death happens in the last week of the month, but this time it’s all the more complex. Amelia Butterworth, yet another Muggleborn witch, who was currently teaching in a Muggle primary school, was single and died after a cyanide capsule was placed inside her ham and cheese baguette from Pret a Manger. She had no children, no partner, and had even opted for a career seemingly unrelated to magic entirely.

“A strange outlier,” Harry Potter notes that morning, chewing thoughtfully on his thumbnail. “Cher, Louis, can you look into her history? See if she has any connections to the other three, maybe.”

Yet after three solid days of research, the pair still comes up stumped. She seems, by all intents and purposes, a normal woman and had simply chosen a career as a primary school teacher so she could move closer to her Muggle parents as her father was suffering with Alzheimer’s.

“Maybe the killer is just a massive cockend and is trying to throw us off the scent?” Louis offers, scowling at the stacks of notes and crumpled papers in front of him. “Like, clearly their moral compass is somewhat askew anyway, so at the risk of sounding crass, what’s one more Muggleborn death to him?”

“Well, with how unpredictable and erratic it’s seemed in the past, I doubt that’s beyond the realms,” Harry Potter says glumly. “I wanna know how they’re selecting the victims though. The connections we had before seemed to be taking us somewhere, but now…” He sighs. “Godric, this killer is such a piece of shit, aren’t they?”

Zayn finds himself slumping in his seat, crossing and then recrossing his ankles, agitated.

“The best thing I can think to do, then,” Harry carries on, “is just to carry on as normal. Keep digging, especially you, Zayn, and until then we’ll just have to be more diligent.”

“Do you not think it’s gotten to the point where we need to tell people?” Jade says, sounding distressed. She too is slumped in her seat, tugging at her necklace in worry. “Like, four people have died _horribly_ in such a short space of time _._ I’m scared and I’m not even a Muggleborn.”

“Our best course of action is not to panic-monger,” Harry insists. “Nothing is scarier than the words ‘serial killer’.”

“But people aren’t thick,” Jade cuts in. “The Wizarding community isn’t _that_ vast. People must have begun putting two and two together by now. Four murders in such a short amount of time _is_ strange.”

Harry sighs, as does Ron. “She’s got a point,” Ron says lowly. “I’ve had me mum’s head appearing in my fireplace more than once over these past few weeks making sure I’m alright. She asked if I knew who were carrying out the murders, or whether there were connections. You know I can’t lie to me mum.”

“Merlin’s left bollock,” Harry Potter swears. “If we are putting an article out on it, then make sure it’s short, concise and it sounds like we’ve got grips on it. Make it sound like we have the upper hand. And for the sake of all that is precious, make sure that bitch Skeeter doesn’t get involved. Make sure it goes straight to Cuffe at the top.”

“Rita Skeeter?” Zayn hears Louis mumble. Harry whips round and nods.

“Yeah, her. You know her? Arduous cow.”

“You’re telling me,” Louis agrees. “My fiancé’s sister works for her. Can’t stand the woman.”

“Full of shit,” Harry agrees. “Although… Harry’s sister works for her, you say?”

Louis nods. “Yeah, kind of. She’s a photographer, sometimes gets sent to take photos with whatever Skeeter’s poking her nose into at the time.”

Harry drums his fingers onto the table a couple of times. “It might be worth trying to get an insider like that true to us, like, inside the newspaper. Cuffe wasn’t a big fan of me suggesting he hire an outside party last time we had a big case like this.” He taps the wood a few more times and then sighs. “The rest of you are free to go for lunch, I think. We’ll work on how to go about this after we’ve all had a bit of a break, Merlin knows we’ve earned one. Louis, can I talk to you a second in the back?”

Louis’s gone from looking smug (like he always does when he and Harry turn out to have something in common) to looking a little green. Zayn makes a mental note to ask him about it later, but shrugs on his jacket and toddles out with the rest of the group towards the cafeteria.

He waits in line with the rest of his group, but Cher pats him on the hip and points out a beaming Liam on one of the far tables, so he bids the group an easy farewell and they all disperse to sit with other friends. He plops down in the seat opposite him and grins as he shrugs his coat off and drapes it on the back of the chair. “Hi” he breathes. “Thanks for saving me a seat, babe.”

“Anytime,” Liam says, grinning back equally as soppily. Zayn’s fucking _gone._ “You look proper wound tight, Zayn, are you okay?”

Zayn sighs and nods, then picks up his fork to stab aggressively at his jacket potato. “I’ll be alright. Work’s just a bit heavy at the moment.”

“Yeah, I read a bit about that death a few days ago in the Prophet,” Liam says sympathetically. “Bless her, she was only a few years above you and I in Hogwarts.”

“Yeah,” Zayn says non-committedly. “Hey, do you mind if we talk about something else? Could do with light, cheery conversation if I’m honest.”

“Course,” Liam says, and he just drops it and keeps smiling, cutting open his own jacket potato. They eat in a comfy silence for a little bit before he asks, “Um, do you, um, wanna do something this weekend then?”

“Ooh yeah,” Zayn sighs, because the idea of doing nothing but hanging with his boyfriend all weekend sounds bloody wonderful after the week he’s had. “What kind of things, babe?”

“I, um, well you can say no,” Liam says, and Zayn looks up to see a slight colouring to his chubby cheeks, eyes not quite meeting his anymore, “but I was wondering if you wanted to stop over, maybe? Like, we could make a bit of a weekend of it.”

“Yeah?” Zayn asks, sliding a forkful of potato and cheese into his open mouth. “You wanna, like…?”

Liam breathes out an embarrassed-sounding snort. “We, like, don’t have to, but, like, I wanted it to be known that it’s on the table, you know?”

“No pressure then,” Zayn grins. “But I’d love to.”

“Cool,” Liam smiles. “I’m, um, I’m excited. Very excited, actually.”

“So am I,” Zayn agrees. “Er, do you wanna do like a proper date thing first? Wanna go out to a bar or something?”

 “That would be pretty cool,” Liam says. “Um, nice, I mean. A nice way to start the weekend.”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s my best mate Harry’s birthday drinks tonight if you wanna come?” Zayn asks sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “We’re going to the Pig and Truffle on the outskirts of Bristol – it’s a Wizarding pub tucked in this little alleyway that we usually Apparate to – just be careful you don’t drink too much because there’s nothing less fun than getting splinched when trying to Apparate pissed, let me tell you…”

“Zayn,” Liam interrupts, then honest to Merlin _giggles_ in this embarrassed sort of way that makes Zayn look up and grin, “I’d love to. This sounds like a really nice third date.”

“Yeah?” Zayn asks tentatively. “I just don’t want to force you in with a lot of my friends who are often, you know, loud and embarrassing and messy. Especially if you want it to be a weekend just for us.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it,” Liam says earnestly, eyes crinkling in the corners as Zayn smiles at him again. “It’ll be nice to meet your friends properly, after all.” He suddenly looks a bit shy, eyes blinking almost apologetically in Zayn’s direction. “I don’t have that many friends, I’m afraid.”

“That’s okay,” Zayn assures, hand curling around Liam’s wrist in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. “I only have my group, like Louis and Harry and Perrie and… _oh!_ You’re friends with Agrippa, aren’t you? Agrippa Smyth?”

Liam lights up. “Yeah, I know Grip! I forgot he had a new girlfriend in, um, in Perrie.” He flushes. “Isn’t she your ex?”

Zayn nods and shrugs at the same time. “Yeah, but she’s also one of my best mates first and foremost. I’m happy for her, honest.” And then, feeling incredibly guilty, he leans forward a touch and whispers, “she won’t be a distraction tonight. That’s over, and there’s going to be someone I fancy more in the same room.”

_It’s for the fucking case._

Liam’s Adam’s apple bobs and his breath hitches, tongue coming out to dampen his lips. Zayn pulls back, smirks, and then hates himself a little bit more.

He’s seriously gorgeous, he can’t help but note, and it’s _unfair._ He’s never really paid much attention to the finer details of Liam’s physique before they began seeing each other, but he _really_ likes what he sees. He’s soft but firm: hair shorn short but with a carefully styled fringe that he keeps out of his chocolate eyes, a button nose and wide, smiling mouth, and a long, tanned neck with a birthmark that Zayn wants to suck on. He’s slender and toned, chest broad and arms strong. Zayn’s never really considered what it would be like to go out with someone like him, someone so much _bigger,_ but he really, really _wants._

And not only that, Liam’s got this dazzling personality that he wants to latch onto forever. He’s quirky and funny, with a heart of gold and an eye for details that Zayn would easily ignore if Liam wasn’t to point them out. He’s gentle, he’s attentive, he’s earnest, and Zayn is so attached that he’s almost mad at himself.

 “That’s, um,” Liam starts, sounding flummoxed. His face and neck are flushed a deep red, and Zayn wants to attach his lips to his skin and taste him. “That’s n-nice to know. And, you know, same. Same w-with you.”

Zayn hopes to Merlin that his smirk still looks genuine and not as false or pained as it feels. He needs to get over this or Liam might catch on; or worse, whoever is controlling him might catch on…

He tries to be coy as he leans back in and presses a gentle, lingering kiss on the corner of Liam’s mouth before he pushes his empty plate away, stands up and shrugs his leather jacket on. “I guess I’ll see you tonight then?” he asks with a wink. Liam nods hurriedly, looking like an excited puppy. Zayn hates his job. “Brilliant, I’ll see you then then,” he says, then turns and hurries out the room before Liam can reply.

He’s completely and totally fucked.


	3. Incendio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday everyone! Here is chapter three as promised. No real warnings, but it's only chapter three...

Ordinarily, Louis would love to start Harry’s birthday by waking him up with a long blow job, or even better, a long, slow fuck, both of them sprawled naked in soft sheets knowing they have all day just to fuck and kiss and celebrate.

Sadly, work is a thing that has to happen, so when Louis wakes up he finds Harry’s side of the bed still warm but tragically empty. He can hear the shower running though, and the thought of Harry naked and soapy and gorgeous is very appealing. He shoves the sheet off and pulls off his sleep shirt as he goes, only stumbling slightly on his tired legs and uneven floorboards. They must get those fixed.

Harry’s singing, some pop song by this Muggle singer that he loves. Louis’s heard it often on Radio One or on the music channels if Harry’s got that playing while he cooks sometimes, but he must admit he does think it sounds better coming from Harry’s deep, rich voice. He’s completely unbiased, of course.

The bathroom door isn’t even closed so Louis can slip in easily, shucking his boxers and trying to stifle a laugh as he watches Harry shimmy his hips through the curved glass of their shower door. He tugs it open and steps inside, letting the hot water hit his chest for a second before Harry makes a pleased sound and tugs him into a hug.

“Morning,” Louis murmurs, just loud enough to hear over the roaring spray, “and happy birthday, baby.”

Harry beams and kisses him hard, a hand combing Louis’s fringe out of his eyes while the other stays gripping tight around his middle. Louis winds both his arms around Harry’s neck and presses him against the glass wall, licking into his mouth and trying not to grin too wide so as to break the kiss. Merlin, Harry hasn’t even said a single thing to him yet but just a single smile from him can turn him into the biggest pile of metaphorical goo. He is truly awful.

He can feel Harry getting hard, fattening up against him, so he does what any good, loving boyfriend would do and pulls back, winking before he drops to his knees. He takes Harry’s dick in hand and strokes it a few times, looking up at him through the spray and then holding it to his parted lips. He lets his tongue dance out to just lick around the head, lapping at the precum that spurts out. Harry groans, hands flattening against the glass for support, and Louis smirks before he sinks down and takes about half of Harry’s pretty dick in his mouth.

“ _Yes_ ,” he hears Harry hiss from above. “Oh, _oh,_ yeah…”

He flattens his tongue and drags it up slowly, pulling back enough to suckle at the head while he pumps his fist. The drag catches a bit – water doesn’t make a great lubricant – so he bobs his head a few more times until his mouth meets his fist and the spit makes it slightly smoother. Wrapping his free hand around Harry’s milky thigh for better leverage, he looks up with wide eyes. He meets Harry’s for a second and he whines, the audible _thunk_ of his head knocking back against the glass only serving to spur Louis on more.

“Lou, Lou, Lou,” Harry starts chanting pretty quickly, dick pulsing in that familiar way on Louis’s tongue. “Lou, gonna come, not long…”

He removes his hand from Harry’s dick in favour of pressing down even further, fighting the urge to gag and instead focusing on Harry’s pleasure. Harry has a gorgeous dick – long and generous in girth – and it took years for him to manage to take him in all the way. His nose reaches the neat mound of Harry’s pubic hair, and it only takes one more look up at Harry to know he’s about to come so he slides back off and gives him just a few more strokes before Harry’s crying out and shooting over Louis’s face and into his parted mouth.

“Shit,” he hears him gasp. His legs are trembling and Louis goes to stand back up, but before he can Harry’s hands are on his cheek, his thumb collecting up some of his load and feeding it between Louis’s lips. Louis sucks it off greedily, happily, then takes Harry’s hand and stands back up, kissing him sloppily.

Harry pushes his hair out of his eyes once more and then presses a long kiss onto his forehead. “Thank you,” he says, so earnest that Louis almost wants to roll his eyes. He’s so _lovely._ “Happy birthday to me.”

“Indeed,” Louis says, voice a little hoarse but it’s nothing one of Harry’s wonderful potions won’t sort for him. “Twenty-two at last, eh?”

“Twenty-two indeed,” Harry hums. “Almost, like, the correct age for marriage now.”

“Oi,” Louis says, flicking water in his face, “there is no correct age for the course of true love.”

“That sounds a little creepy, Lou,” Harry says sagely.

“Oh, you know what I meant,” Louis grumbles. “Come on, you. Wash up, there’s a good lad. Got presents to give you before work.”

“Presents?” Harry says hopefully, like Louis hadn’t banished him from the bedroom last night because he’d forgotten to wrap them all like an idiot. “I love presents.”

“I know you do, sunshine.” Louis rolls his eyes and slaps his bum. “Hair wash, off we go.”

Harry obeys, and Louis washes the spunk from his face with a dopey grin.

*

“So I wrote him out a coupon saying I’ll pay for his next tattoo, and then I got him this fancy ring thing he wanted, and then these ugly shirts I found when I was shopping with Lottie that turned out to be, like, some important designer originally and super fucking vintage and ‘the best present ever’.” Louis air-quotes the last bit and rolls his eyes. “I mean it when I say they are some of the ugliest shirts I’ve ever seen.”

Zayn snorts and dips his quill in his ink, tapping it a couple of times on the side of the jar before he carries on writing. “Sounds nice though. Did his mum and Gemma get him anything?”

“Yeah, Anne sent over this cake that he loves along with a cheque for him to buy whatever he wants,” Louis tells him. “And Gemma gave him a mug that keeps his morning coffee warm, like, indefinitely and then this travel bag thing. It’s nice, made from proper dragon hide.”

“Nice,” Zayn says, nodding approvingly. “Got any more surprises lined up?”

“None that you’ll want to hear about before eleven in the morning, I imagine,” Louis smirks. Zayn groans, because he really should have seen that coming. “Nah, we’re doing drinks later and then we’ll probably just leave early enough to squeeze in a couple of rounds.”

“I told you you were getting too domestic,” Zayn laughs. “Honestly, leaving the pub early for one of your coupley missionary fucks. Unbelievable.”

“Who says it’ll be missionary?” says Louis, narrowing his eyes and sticking out his tongue. “I’m going to bend that boy over and fucking ram…”

“Enough!” Zayn shrieks, dropping his quill and covering his ears. “La la la, I can’t hear you.”

Louis just grins artificially wide, looking like a smug Cheshire Cat. Zayn sighs, picking up his wand and casting _Scrougify_ to clear up all the ink droplets that went flying as he dropped the quill.

“You’ve made a mess of my desk,” he snaps at Louis, who just waves his hand and ignores him. He sighs loudly again and picks the quill back up, making a few more lines of notes before he clears his throat awkwardly. “So, um, is it alright if I bring Liam along this evening?”

Louis stares at him for a second, expression blank. “You want to bring a potential killer to my fiancé’s birthday drinks?” he asks eventually, voice toneless and eyebrows up. “Am I hearing that right?”

“He’s not the fucking killer,” Zayn tells him snappily for the hundredth time. “He’s not, and for all intents and purposes he’s my boyfriend, and he would come to an event like this to meet all my friends. So yeah, I want to bring _Liam_ to your birthday drinks.”

Louis fixes him with a stern look, eyes narrowing to such small slits that Zayn’s pretty sure he can’t see anything. He taps his fingers against the desk in a heavy rhythm and Zayn fixes him with a smile, bright and pleading, that he’s almost certain will work. It hardly ever fails him, and both his mum and Perrie teased him mercilessly for it whenever he used it one of them.

“Urgh, fine,” Louis says after a little longer glaring. Zayn beams triumphantly and opens his mouth to say something but Louis holds his hand up silence him. “But only because I trust you. Not him, _you._ I don’t think he’s daft enough to pull any shit with all your mates around.”

“He’s not going to pull any type of shit,” Zayn tells him exasperatedly. “But I really do appreciate this, Lou, cheers.”

“Anything for you,” Louis drawls, and it could possibly sound sarcastic to an outsider but Zayn knows Louis means it. “Make me like him, yeah?”

“I will,” Zayn nods. “I absolutely will. He’s not the killer, Lou, he really isn’t.”

Louis lets out another long sigh. “I still have my doubts, I’m not gonna lie, Zed, but if you tell me that then I’ll rock with it. You’re not an idiot, you’re not, and I trust you pretty much with my life, so.” He shrugs like it’s nothing, but Zayn knows it’s more than that. He knows that Louis’s been holding out on putting his trust in Liam mainly because he’s a Muggleborn, and after they worked out that that seemed to be the killer’s target demographic he seems ever more painfully aware of that fact. So for him to say yes is a pretty big step, and he can’t help but jump up and hurry over to his side of the desk to wrap him up in a ridiculously soppy hug.

“Love you,” Zayn mumbles into his hair. Louis pretends to swat at him but hugs him back, smacking a huge kiss onto his cheek before shoving him away.

“Do your work, Malik,” he sneers, but there’s not heat there, just fond. Zayn pretends to cuff him round the back of the head, then makes his way back across the table. With a stupid wide grin on his face, he picks up his quill again and gets back to work.

*

The Pig and Truffle is a little hole in the wall pub in Clifton, and it’s been one of Zayn and Louis’s favourite hangouts for years now. The food is delicious and the drinks are wonderfully cheap. It’s also hidden from Muggle eyes, so it’s easy for them to use and discuss magic without any potential lawsuits being shoved their way.

Sat in their regular booth, Zayn sits tucked close to Liam (who smells bloody amazing, much to Zayn’s joint chagrin and delight) with Jesy on his other side. She’s glowing and chatting happily about her two month old baby boy, Douglas, waxing lyrical about the joys of motherhood and family life.

“It’s lovely to be out though,” she grins happily, leaning back into her husband Jake’s arms, who kisses her hair. “It’s a bit of a bugger leaving him, because I miss him already like hell, but it’s nice to have a catch up.”

“If the birthday boy ever turns up, that is,” Niall smirks. The group all laugh, and then a few seconds later the fireplace on the other side of the pub glows green and a rather rumpled-looking Louis topples out of it.

“Ahh, speak of the devil, kind of,” Jesy giggles. “Hey, hubby!”

Louis waves over to the group, then the fireplace glows green again and Harry emerges. The pair link arms and amble over, and ah, yes, now Zayn knows why they’re late, not that he couldn’t probably have guessed. Harry’s sporting a suspicious waddle and Louis has a lovebite the size of a small country on his neck, and they’re both clinging to each other like they can’t bear to be separated; clearly they’re both already a bit pissed and rather touchy-feely.

“Looks like you’ve already given young Hazza his present then,” Niall laughs, giving Louis a playful swat on the arm. Harry blushes but Louis just looks smug. Zayn snickers along with the rest of them then shifts along the booth to make room for the pair. Liam keeps his arm tight around his shoulders the entire time, smiling politely up at Harry and Louis as they greet the group and hiding his blush in Zayn’s neck afterwards. It’s really rather endearing.

“Alright, Zayn?” Louis says, grinning over at him after he’s bickered with Niall for a few minutes and made him go to the bar to buy both him and Harry drinks, “I see you bought your beau.”

“Louis,” Zayn says warningly, “behave.” He hopes that the glare he shoots him will suffice, but knowing Louis as he does and what the bloke is like after a few drinks, he doubts it’ll work for long.

“Nice to meet you proper though, Liam,” Louis continues, ignoring Zayn. Zayn groans and rests his head on Liam’s shoulder. “I’m so chuffed that the pair of you finally got your act together. A pining wee thing, our Zayn was. Never wanted to do anything about it though, wasn’t sure whether you swung that way. But I’m glad it’s all sorted now. When can I expect nephews and nieces?”

“ _Louis,_ ” Zayn hisses. Louis just shrugs like he’s not doing anything, and thankfully Harry starts muttering something in his ear so he’s suitably distracted. He risks a look at Liam’s face, and bless him, he looks a bit like he’s been stung in an unpleasant place. “Li?”

Liam looks down at where he’s resting against his shoulder, eyes wide and blinking.

“You okay?” Zayn murmurs, hoping everyone else is distracted by the other chatter enough not to listen in. “You look a bit panicked, babe.”

“It’s… it’s nothing,” Liam says with a smile, but it sounds forced. Zayn touches his hand but Liam just shakes his head, and forces his smile wider. “I’m fine, Zayn, I promise.”

“Yeah?” Zayn questions. Liam nods curtly. “Will you tell me after?”

Liam hesitates, but he nods again after a few seconds. Zayn relaxes a little, then stretches up to kiss Liam’s cheek. Once he’s pulled back and smiled up at Liam again softly, Liam finally cracks a smile back and, in a brave move that Zayn hasn’t quite seem come from Liam yet, darts down and kisses him on the lips. It’s only quick but it’s enough for the rest of the table to grown and start throwing coasters and balled up napkins at the pair.

“Don’t be dicks,” Zayn shouts, holding his hands up to protect his face. “This was, like, a two second kiss!”

“Yeah, two seconds too long when we’re at a classy establishment for polite drinks for my boy’s birthday,” Louis retorts. Zayn shoots him another glare.

“Says _you,_ who has been kicked out of this place on numerous occasions for indecent exposure,” he points out. Louis just shrugs again, uncaring. Zayn rolls his eyes and turns to Harry instead. “Hey, Haz, do you want your present now?”

“Present?” Harry says, lighting up like a curly Christmas tree. “Yes please!”

Zayn carefully reaches under the table for the present bag, which he hands over an absolutely delighted Harry. He rummages through the bag and pulls out a card and the badly wrapped present that Zayn had forgotten about until ten minutes before he was meant to meet Liam. Harry barely seems to notice though, digging his thumb into the paper and unwrapping it with an excited grin.

“ _The Wizard’s Guide to Muggle London?”_ he gasps as he pulls it out the paper. “Zayn, this is sick! You know how much I love Muggle London, oh, thanks babes!”

“Aw, what a lovely gift,” Louis drawls, peering at the book in Harry’s hands over his shoulder. “’S’not like he has a Muggleborn fiancé who knows how to act like a Muggle fairly well or anything.”

“Louis, don’t be a dick,” Harry scolds as he flicks through the book. “Thank you, Zayn, I really love it.”

“Also, Lou, you’re a terrible Muggle when it comes to London,” Jesy laughs. Louis splutters into his pint. “No, you are! Like I know you do the Tube and stuff, and that’s cool, but living in London as a Muggle and living in Doncaster as a Muggle are totally different.”

“You’re from Essex anyway, what do you know?” Louis says, sticking out his tongue at her. The two begin to squabble, their age old debate over whether the Muggle north or the Muggle south is a better place to grow up, and Zayn promptly turns away and starts talking to Niall, Jake, and Liam instead.

It’s not long after that that the rest of the group finally turn up. They’re in the middle of a discussion about bets for the frontrunners in the upcoming Quidditch World Cup when six figures appear in front of them easily – Eleanor and her relatively new boyfriend Max, Jade and Leigh-Anne, and then Perrie and Agrippa. There’s more waving, then more presents are being shoved at Harry and birthday wishes yelled over the scrapings of the chairs they’re drawing over to join their little table. Harry grins at all of them, accepting cuddles and handshakes from all angels.

“Nice to meet you properly,” Zayn hears Agrippa say to Harry over the sound of clinking pint glasses. Perrie’s beaming at him over her new boyfriend’s shoulder, seemingly pleased that the two are finally meeting. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about your dad from my old man. A good Wizarding family, are the Styles.”

“Um, thank you?” Harry accepts, grinning up at him. “Nice to meet you too, always good to finally chat to my best mate’s new boyfriend.”

“She’s a keeper, this one,” Agrippa says, snaking his arm around Perrie’s slender waist. He does look at her incredibly fondly, Zayn must admit. They seem a good match, and he looks forward to catching up with her tonight and chatting about their new relationships. He’s missed her.

It’s only then he realises he’s probably been staring at his ex a little too long, so turns to stare back at Liam, but he’s too busy caught in a heated discussion about whether Puddlemere United or the Holyhead Harpies are the better team with Niall, both of them chatting rather animatedly with hands flying in all directions. He turns back instead, and Perrie catches his eye and winks at him through her long lashes then blows him a kiss.

He waves back, smiling fondly at her, when Agrippa turns away from Harry and stares over at him and Liam. For some reason, the intense gaze of the man sends shivers down Zayn’s spine, cold as ice. His breath hitches, and he finds himself nudging his body closer to Liam’s almost instinctively.

“Grip!” Liam calls suddenly, turning away from Niall and beaming over at him. “Hey, good to see you mate!”

“You too, Liam,” Agrippa calls over, eyebrows raising up when he sees Liam turn to Zayn and tuck his arm around him a little more comfortably. “You didn’t tell me you had a new piece.”

Any trace of a smile instantly vanishes off Zayn’s face and he instead finds himself glaring at him, wishing him away from Perrie right this fucking second. Liam just chuckles though, and Perrie slaps him on the chest playfully.

“Grip, that’s not very nice,” she chastises, but there’s no real heat behind it. “That’s Zayn, my lovely ex.”

Agrippa’s smirk changes into a hard, cold stare in the blink of an eye. “Wait,” he says slowly, voice dripping with unpleasantness, “my best friend is dating the ex-boyfriend of my current girlfriend?”

“Guilty,” Zayn croaks, tugging Liam’s arm a little tighter around his shoulders. “Zayn Malik, nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure,” Agrippa says, though his tone suggests the complete opposite. “Pez, where shall we sit?”

“Um,” Perrie says, looking around at the group. “Well, I want to talk to Harry and to Zayn so… here?”

“That’s Lou’s seat,” Harry tells them, gesturing to the spot next to him. “He’s just gone for a wee and then he’s nipping to the bar.”

“Lou?” Agrippa asks as he grabs a chair from a neighbouring table and sits it across from Harry. “Oh, is that your fiancé? Perrie mentioned you were getting married. Where is the lucky lad?”

Harry looks over the crowd, and Zayn watches as his face lights up as Louis winks at him from across the room. He’s leaning against the bar, a handful of Sickles noticeable as they glint under the glowing lights. “He’s coming,” he says happily, pointing in his general direction. “The shorter guy with the quiff, can you see?”

Agrippa shoots a glance that way for a second but just shrugs and turns back to Harry. “So, Harry, how’s your sister? She was the year above me at Hogwarts, I believe; a very talented Witch. Where is she now?”

“She works for the Daily Prophet, actually, she’s a photographer,” Harry says brightly.

Zayn knows all about Harry’s sister, of course, so he turns his attention back to Liam. Resting a hand on his chest he turns up to look at him, and Liam grins and goes to press a gentle kiss on his slack mouth.

“Hey,” he murmurs, adjusting their positions so they’re sitting more equally weighted, “I’m sorry about Grip. He can be a bit… rude, if people aren’t how he’s expecting them to be.”

“It’s fine,” Zayn says, but it’s really not. He sighs. “I wish he hadn’t called me a _piece_ though, that was pretty shitty.”

“It was, babe, I’m sorry,” Liam says, and he sounds a bit ashamed. “I’ll have a word with him later, yeah? He’ll listen to me.”

“Thank you,” Zayn says with a soft smile, and he kisses Liam again with a gentle hand on his cheek. It’s comforting and warm and Zayn lets himself melt into it for a few seconds.

“Thank _you,_ ” Liam giggles as they pull apart. “You kiss really nice.”

Zayn snorts and rests his head on Liam’s shoulder. “I have been told I am a great kisser, yes.”

“You two are foul,” Niall says from Liam’s other side, wrinkling his nose at the pair. “Honestly, I don’t know if I’m jealous or disgusted.”

“Jealous, probably,” Jake says, elbowing him playfully. “Ah, the honeymoon stage.” He too wrinkles his nose. “Then soon you have a baby and you’re up at all hours and you never have time for each other anymore…” Jesy slaps him on the chest at that, and he at least has the decency to look a little sheepish. “Sorry, babe.”

“That child is your angel, don’t you dare tell me otherwise,” Jesy says sharply. Jake nods solemnly. “Good boy.”

Zayn laughs at the pair, unbearably fond of them and the relationship they share, but his attention is called away when he hears a rather pissed out sounding Louis snap, “excuse me, mate?”

He turns to look at the front of the table, where Louis is glaring at Agrippa but Harry looks positively thunderous. Perrie has her hand wrapped around Agrippa’s wrist and she doesn’t look hugely happy either. “I told you I have a lot of Muggleborn friends, Grip,” she’s saying, a pink flush high on her pale cheeks.

“Yeah, but I didn’t realise how many,” Agrippa says back, like that’s a perfectly justified thing to say. “And I didn’t realise they were… _intermingling_ with so many important Wizarding families.”

“You fucking what, mate?” Louis asks dangerously. “You’re throwing a hissy fit here because me and Harry are getting married when you don’t even know us?”

“I told you this, Grip,” Perrie chimes in desperately.

“Yeah, but you didn’t mention that it wasn’t to a Pureblood. You said the name Lou, you never said anything about it being Louis Tomlinson,” Agrippa says like that justifies his words.

“Well, how many other people with the name Louis do you know?” Louis snaps. “Jesus Christ.”

“Grip, what are you doing?” Liam hisses from across the table. He sounds mortified and that at least helps the current boiling of Zayn’s blood to be reduced to a simmer. “Why are you being like this?”

“Liam, back me up here,” Agrippa says, “your family’s always understood the need to not mingle with the Muggleborns too much?”

Liam flushes a deep red, and Zayn can’t quite work out if it’s anger or humiliation. All eyes are on him as he stammers out, “yeah, my father thinks that, maybe, but that’s, like, a well old view. I don’t want to think like him. It’s very close-minded and I’m not like that.”

“Li, I thought you were on my side with this,” Agrippa says coldly.

“N-not with this,” Liam splutters urgently. His arm tightens around Zayn. “Not with this at all. Maybe when I was younger and stupid and naïve but not _now._ Merlin, Agrippa, what are you even saying?”

Zayn looks around the table and realises that nearly half the people sat around him – Louis, Leigh-Anne, Jesy, and Eleanor included – are either Halfblood or Muggleborn. Clearly Liam’s picked up on this too, and although Zayn would be sceptical knowing the details surrounding Liam and the case, he sounds so desperate and genuine that he just wants to hold him right now.

And also punch Agrippa really hard in the face.

“I’m saying what I’ve believed to be true for years,” Agrippa says. He leans back in his chair lazily, and Perrie hastily untangles her hand from his and sits back in her seat, arms crossed. He furrows his brows at her but then turns to Harry instead. “Surely you, as a Styles – you’re one of the oldest, most traditional Wizarding families – surely you _know?”_

“Go fuck yourself,” Louis snaps, just as Harry says, “we’re an old Wizarding family, yeah, but we’re not arseholes!”

“How does wanting to protect my ancestry make me an arsehole, if you please?”

“Because Lou is just as much of a wizard as you are, you prick,” Harry shouts. The whole bar has gone silent at this point, watching the argument progress over the rims of their pints. “He’s a fucking Auror, isn’t he? He’s working a high up job in the Ministry of _Magic_ and he’s worth ten of you.”

Agrippa just snorts, and Zayn is fucking ready to get involved; he’s trembling and he’s ready to snap, he can feel it…

“And also, my mum and dad both remarried to a Muggleborn anyway, so you can fuck off with your accusations about us being pure in lineage,” Harry huffs. “And they’re both the happiest they’ve ever been.”

“Big words,” Agrippa notes with a shrug and a sigh. “Okay, whatever. Shame, really, I always liked your family.”

Harry looks like he’s about to cry.

“I don’t want him at my birthday drinks anymore,” he tells Perrie fiercely. His arm is laced tightly through Louis’s, who is burning red with anger and humiliation himself. “Sorry, Perrie, but can you leave?”

“Perrie can stay,” Agrippa says loftily as he realises she’s clearly not going anywhere, rising from his seat and smirking at them. “I’ll let myself out. Don’t need to waste my evening with a bunch of Mudbloods anyway.” And with a stupid, too dramatic wave for his exit he grabs his wand and Apparates out of there, fast enough so he misses both Zayn and Louis’s fists slamming down on the table so hard that several drinks spill over.

Perrie promptly bursts into tears.

Silence stretches throughout the pub.

“What the _fuck_ just happened?” Jesy shouts after a few painfully long seconds of stony silence. She leans over and laces her fingers with Jake’s, drawing them to her mouth and brushing a kiss over his knuckles. “Who the fuck does he think he fucking is?”

Zayn doesn’t even think, he just stands up and awkwardly clambers over the people sitting between him and Perrie and sinks down to his knees in front of her. She flings herself into his arms and weeps into his shoulder, loud sobs muffled by his jumper. Her whole body is trembling and he’s never seen her like this before in his life, never in their two years of being together or their years of friendship previous to that. He cuddles her in close, pressing a kiss to her shoulder and murmuring anything that he thinks will calm her down.

“I didn’t… he wasn’t… that wasn’t…” Perrie’s hiccupping wetly, one of her hands fisting in the back of Zayn’s hair. He shushes her gently and continues to cradle her as he stands himself up, coaxing her upstanding too so they can cuddle more easily. He feels someone else sidle up to her side and he realises it’s Jesy, who offers her a sad smile and carefully pulls her curls from her face, fastening them out of her tear-streaked face.

“Want me to take you to the loos, love?” she whispers softly. “Get you cleaned up?”

Perrie nods meekly and Zayn unwraps himself from her, patting her hip as she goes pliantly into the arms of her friend.

“There’s a good girl,” Jesy says to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and smiling gratefully at Zayn over her shoulder. “What a raging arsehole you managed to pick there, babe. You’re well shot of him already.”

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” Perrie manages to croak weakly before Jesy carts her away, and Zayn drops into her empty seat and scrubs a hand over his face.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles under his breath, and then he reaches forward and squeezes Harry’s knee. “You alright, bro?”

Harry looks furious, his eyes red-rimmed and his mouth set in a hard line. Zayn hasn’t seen him this upset for years, not since someone in the stands at one of Louis’s Quidditch matches had made a comment about how a batty boy shouldn’t be playing Seeker. He hasn’t let go of his boyfriend at all, Louis’s smaller body pulled into his side with his head resting on Harry’s shoulder. He looks more upset than angry at this point and Zayn _hates_ this.

“Not really,” Harry replies, voice small. “I don’t… what the fuck just happened, Zayn?” He cranes his neck around towards the toilets. “Is she okay?”

“Not really,” Zayn says. “I don’t think she wants to show her face right now, bless her heart.”

“It’s not her I’m mad at,” Harry sniffs, “it’s her fucking boyfriend. But also why the fuck did she bring him here?”

“I’d venture he’s probably her ex-boyfriend now,” Louis hums into Harry’s shoulder. “The girl is smart enough to dump him now, isn’t she?”

“Oh, definitely,” Zayn says. “None of us would let her anyway. Jesy would have his balls. Did you see the look on her face?”

“Was too busy looking at Lou,” Harry mumbles. “I hate him.”

“Me too,” Zayn says with a sad sigh. It’s only then that he realises that Liam is still there, and Agrippa was – _is –_ his bloody best mate. Looking over to him, he sees that he’s got his head bowed and purposefully isn’t looking at him, fiddling with something in his lap. But even from here Zayn can see his bright red cheeks, burning with what Zayn assumes (and sort of hopes) is embarrassment. He kind of wants to ask him about it, but before he can open his mouth Liam stands up, cautiously nudging past Jake, Eleanor and Max before he comes around the front of the table. He reaches forward to touch Zayn on the shoulder, but then flinches back, and Zayn fights the urge to stand up and hug him because he’s _extremely_ pissed off right now and he doesn’t want to take that out on him.

“I, um… Louis, Harry, I’m so extremely sorry,” Liam stammers. He’s biting nervously at his lip and Zayn can see how much his hands are shaking. “You… you didn’t deserve to have any of that and I don’t know what happened there, I swear he’s never been that angry or blunt about it before. N-not that I want to defend him, but I mean, like, I’ve known him almost my whole life and I’ve never seen him like that. It was so bad, and I’m so sorry.” He ducks his head again. “I, er, I guess I’ll be going too as well. Um, happy birthday, Harry, it was a really lovely evening until, um, well, yeah, I’m just gonna go. Sorry again.”

Zayn’s arm shoots forward to wrap a hand around Liam’s retreating wrist before he even knows what he’s doing. “Liam, don’t leave,” he croaks out. “It… it wasn’t your fault.”

“I know, but…” Liam looks so torn, bless him, so Zayn grips him tighter. “I feel partially responsible.”

“For what?” Harry asks. He sounds a weird mix between timid, angry, and curious. “You… you’re not, like, that hateful or anything, are you?”

Louis’s glaring at Zayn over his boyfriend’s shoulder, brows knitted together in a way that’s clearly trying to send Zayn signals. Zayn supposes Louis has a point – they’ve already established that the killer is tackling the type of people that Agrippa thought Liam was so adverse to, and Louis happens to be one of those people. Right now, it’s clear that his words mean very little to Louis and he’s really rather upset, but Zayn is also nearly completely convinced that Liam is in fact _not_ the killer.

“No, no, of _course_ I don’t,” Liam stammers. “I didn’t even know he felt that strongly about it. Like, it’s a silly old-fashioned view and I thought most people were past it.”

“Clearly not if the recent murder of _Muggleborns_ is anything to go by,” Louis spits. “It must be really nice to just dismiss it as an old view when really it’s alive and well and killing witches and wizards.”

Zayn gapes at him, and he hears Jade gasp somewhere to his right. That information isn’t open to the public yet, yet Louis’s just yelled it loud enough for half the pub to hear. There’s an awkward few seconds and then Louis slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes wide and shining. “Shit.”

“What?” Harry says, turning to Louis with a flash of concern and worry. “You… you never told me they were all Muggleborns. You never told me you knew more about the case either.”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, _shit,_ ” Louis starts to babble, looking wildly between Harry and Zayn. “That’s… um, that’s information I was not meant to let slip.”

“What?” Zayn says before he can stop himself. “Lou, you didn’t even tell Har-?”

“Shut the fuck up, Zayn,” Louis snarls warningly. Harry glances between them, looking even more hurt than he did a few moments ago, and Louis wiggles out from under his arm and wraps his own around himself.

“What’s going on?” Niall asks from across the table. “What did Louis just do?”

“ _Nothing,_ ” he hisses, glaring at all his friends. “Nothing, _Christ,_ what do you all want from me?”

“You… you said…” Harry starts, then snaps his mouth back shut.

“Well, you just yelled some classified information out to half the pub,” Zayn says lowly. His mind is reeling – if Louis gets kicked off the case, then what? Also, the fact that Louis hasn’t told Harry about his promotion is just _bizarre._ Those two tell each other absolutely everything, and Harry looks more hurt in finding out Louis’s kept something from him, especially something as big and significant as a promotion. Not only that, now _Liam_ knows that there’s a special group of them working on the case and Zayn’s involved, which makes him feel really quite uneasy.

“Oh fuck off, Zayn,” Louis snaps anyway, despite the fact he’s burning red and almost looks like he might cry. “I don’t need this, _shit,_ I don’t…”

“It’s not a big deal,” Jade tries to spin, turning to the rest of the group and glaring at them in a way that leaves no room for argument. “There’s been some changes at work, and there’s a team of us working more specifically on the case now, but we’re not allowed to talk about it to anyone, yeah? So whatever you just heard, you don’t know anymore, yeah?”

“I guess?” Jake says slowly, shrugging his shoulders. “I mean, are you all involved in it? All you Aurors at the table?”

Zayn doesn’t say anything, but he’s guessing their faces give them away.

“I see,” Harry says in a quivering voice. “That’s… thanks, Louis, really fucking good of you to tell me about it.”

“Harry…”

“I think I’m going to go home,” Harry says, standing up on uncoordinated long legs and giving the group a half-hearted wave. “I, um, yeah. Happy birthday to me.”

Louis stands up too. “I’m coming with you, baby.”

“What, so we can have a conversation about all the other things you haven’t told me?” Harry snaps, a stray tear leaking down his cheek. Zayn kind of wants to simultaneously hit Louis for making Harry look as sad as he does right now, on his fucking birthday no less, but he also wants to give him the biggest hug because he’s not looking much better himself.

“No, darling,” Louis replies sadly. “Because you’re my fiancé and you’re crying and it’s your bloody birthday.”

The two stroll towards the fireplace, still bickering and shouting, then easily disappear in a puff of green smoke. The silence at the table is almost deafening, and Zayn sits there with his head in his hands until Jake clears his throat.

“I’m not gonna lie to you all, this isn’t really how I envisioned my first night out after the baby going,” he grimaces. “A little bit too dramatic for me, I think, now I’m a family man and all.”

“I think it’s probably best that we all just go home too,” Liam says from behind Zayn, and it almost makes him jump. “I think… I think tonight is one of those nights best left forgotten, you know?”

“Definitely,” Jade jumps in to agree. “For Perrie’s sake, and also for those two’s sake.”

There’s a murmur of agreement around the table, then Niall stands up and carefully climbs out of the booth, coming forward to pull Zayn up into a hug.

“Hey,” he murmurs into his mate’s ear. “You look like you’ve seen a Basilisk, is everything okay?”

Zayn clings to Niall a little pathetically, but nods his head into his shoulder. “Fine, just worried, you know? For Pez and Harry and Lou.”

“They’ll all be fine,” Niall assures, pulling back and smacking a kiss into Zayn’s beardy cheek. “Harry and Louis will work everything out, and as long as Perrie dumps that dickhead’s ignorant arse I don’t see a problem, you know?”

“I suppose,” Zayn grumbles. Niall has always been the simplest, most rational person, and sometimes he wishes he could think as plainly as him. Niall never seems to worry about anything, and if he is worried then you know something is truly wrong. “Feel a bit bad that you’re the only one who seemed to know we had a new job.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t help it if I’m just that special,” Niall laughs, cackling at his own joke and then pulling back from the hug. “S’a bit weird that Harry didn’t know though. What’s going on there?”

Zayn shrugs, even though he has a vague idea of why. “Dunno. Maybe Lou thought he was being protective.”

“Ah, true,” Niall says, then drops the subject easily. “Who wants to go and get chips?”

“Ooh, me!” Leigh-Anne says happily, sliding on her coat and then skipping over to Niall. “Jade?”

A soft hand suddenly touches Zayn’s shoulder and he spins around, feeling quite bad that he’s been neglecting Liam this whole time. “Hey,” he greets softly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Liam says, but it’s unconvincing. “I think I’m going to head home. Um, thanks for inviting me and letting me meet your friends.”

“No, Liam, wait,” Zayn says, and he reaches forward to join their hands. “Can we, like, go for a walk or something?”

“A walk?”

“Yeah, um, one second,” Zayn says, patting him on the hip a couple of times before he turns back to the table. “Hey, Jake, can you pass me my coat please?” Jake nods and hands it over, and Zayn shrugs it on then turns back to Liam, taking his hand before Liam can move away. “I wanna just talk for a bit with just you, okay?”

“It’s a bit cold though,” Liam frowns. “Um, we could go to another pub, or to my flat…” He trails off, looking a bit embarrassed at the suggestion. As if that’s what’s embarrassing about the night, Zayn thinks, but he nods surely.

“Yeah, that’d be great,” he says brightly, maybe too brightly given the mood. “Shall we get going?”

“Yeah, sure,” Liam replies. He still sounds unsure so Zayn presses closer, linking their arms together and shivering happily in the shared body warmth.

“Hey, everyone, we’re off,” Zayn calls out with a brief wave. “Ni, I’m going back to Liam’s for a bit, not going for chips.”

“Be safe,” is all Niall offers. There are a few catcalls and a stern glance from Leigh-Anne, but the pair set off after Zayn’s flipped them all off. As they approach the door, the doors to the loos across from them open and Jesy and Perrie emerge, Perrie still noticeably upset but thankfully no longer in tears. Zayn drops Liam’s arm and goes in for a hug, which she returns tightly.

“Hey,” he murmurs, “you’re okay, babe, you’re okay. He’s a piece of shit and you’re too good for him. You didn’t know; you couldn’t have known.”

“Still feel like shit about it,” she mumbles miserably, but pulls back and floats back to Jesy’s side, running her arms up and down her arms. “You two off then, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Zayn says, slipping his arm back through Liam’s, even though his body’s a lot more rigid than before. “Going back to Liam’s for a bit for a coffee or something.”

Jesy snorts and at long last Perrie smiles, even if it is at Zayn’s expense. “Coffee, eh?” she grins mischievously. “Is that what you kids are calling it these days?”

“Shut it, you,” Zayn retorts with a roll of his eyes. “Anyway, we’re off. Give little Doug a goodnight kiss from me, Jess.”

“You bet,” Jesy says, winking at them playfully before she steers Perrie back to the table. “Night, you two!”

“Night,” Liam croaks, then Zayn drags him out of there. He takes a sharp deep breath as they step out into the bitter February cold and he presses even closer into the warm solid heat of Liam’s body, eager to stay like this as it’s bloody _freezing._ It’s definitely too cold for a walk, Zayn notes, and proceeds to walk with Liam towards the alleyway around the corner so they can Apparate out of sight.

“Um,” Zayn says dumbly as he fishes around in his pocket for his robes, “I’ve never actually Apparated before without a clear picture of where we’re going. I’ve either been with people like Perrie or Lou, or we’ve just Floo’d.”

“Um, okay,” Liam says, brows furrowing in thought. He looks fucking adorable, Zayn can’t help but notice, and he smiles serenely as he watches Liam think. “Oh, I know! Do you ever come by, like, the Islington way, on Kingsland Road?” Zayn nods. “Do you know the McDonalds there?” Zayn nods again and grins.

“I can picture there easy,” he says with a smirk. “See you there in a few?”

Liam smiles at him then disappears in the blink of an eye, Zayn following seconds later. They stumble onto the busy London street together, instantly linking hands once they’re within the distance of each other and walking in the direction that Liam guides them. It’s not a long walk to Liam’s little flat, nestled above a newsagent in a cosy side street. They traipse up the stairs, chatting lowly about how bloody freezing they both are and Liam unlocks the door with fumbling fingers, standing aside to let Zayn in.

Flicking the light on, he makes a vague gesture towards an expensive looking leather sofa across the room, then unwinds his scarf from his neck. “Um, would you like a coffee or a beer or a cup of tea or a…?”

“A coffee would be lovely,” Zayn says, teeth still chattering from the outside cold. “Your house is so warm, Liam, bless you.”

Liam smiles, a soft and genuine grin that Zayn can’t help but match. “I like it here. Rent’s through the roof for the house itself but I couldn’t turn down the location.”

“How big is it?” Zayn asks as he rubs his hands together to warm them. “Can I have the grand tour while the kettle boils?”

“Sure,” Liam says, tilting his head in the direction of the kitchen. “It really isn’t that big, but I do like to splurge on a few nice things for it.”

“Bet you’ve got the comfiest bed,” Zayn says, and he doesn’t mean it suggestively at all but Liam giggles and goes pink. “Oh, shit.”

“It is, actually,” Liam says coyly, and _oh._ “Definitely big enough for two grown men to sleep in comfortably.”

“Yeah?” Zayn asks equally as demurely, stepping forward and resting his hands on Liam’s shoulders. Liam’s hands slide up to sit on his hips and Zayn shuffles forward so they’re chest to chest, faces only centimetres from each other. “Do you wanna try that out someday soon?”

“Y-yeah,” Liam breathes, and his thumb dips under the soft cashmere of Zayn’s jumper and strokes along skin. “Yeah, that’d be… that’d be pretty fun.”

Zayn smirks as he moves his face even closer to Liam’s. Liam’s eyes drop to Zayn’s slightly parted lips and they take a few moments to just drink in this newfound heat between them, their connection charged and hot. He moves his fingers to slide them into the short hairs on the back of Liam’s head and then they’re kissing easily, slick lips and soft presses of tongue and easy, fluid movements into their shared space. It’s different from any kisses they’ve shared up to this point, where Liam’s always seemed a little nervous and eager for Zayn to control it as his pace. But here he graciously takes the lead, gripping at Zayn’s hips hard and fervent and sucking on Zayn’s tongue like he can’t get enough.

“Bloody hell,” he murmurs against Liam’s lips as the kiss slows to gentle pecks, smiling as Liam grins and picks up the pace again. “You’re so hot, Liam, my god.”

Liam pulls back but keeps his hands in place, and shakes his head. “Nowhere near as hot as you,” he says, sounding slightly breathless. “You’re so gorgeous, always have been.”

Zayn smirks again before brushing their lips together once more. “No need to be flustered, babe. I’m very flattered.”

“It’s just,” Liam starts, then stops and pouts a bit, “it’s just I’ve wanted this for so long, you know? I didn’t think you even looked twice at me. And then Louis said earlier that you had a crush on me too and I almost can’t bring myself to believe it, because I’m not… you’re so perfect and gorgeous and smart and funny and everyone clearly adores you, and yet you’re here with my boring self in my shitty flat making comments about my bed and giving me compliments.”

“Liam,” Zayn says slowly, a bit stunned, “Liam, that’s what boyfriends do.”

“Boyfriends,” Liam splutters, his body jerking in surprise. Tight knots twist themselves into Zayn’s stomach, confused by Liam’s uncertainty, and he pulls back and brushes his knuckles gently down his cheek.

“Are we not… you did ask me a few weeks ago, didn’t you? Or have I…?”

“No, no, we are,” Liam hurries to say. “I’m just… I haven’t been a boyfriend in a while. Caught me off guard.”

“Okay, good,” Zayn says, then smiles. “I didn’t want to have read anything wrong.”

“No, we’re definitely boyfriends,” Liam says, then blushes. “I… I really fucking like you, Zayn.”

Zayn really fucking likes him too, but he still feels like a fucking phony for thinking it, or even letting Liam happen to him in the first place. Instead of answering he kisses him once again, hoping that the press of his lips and hands gently fisted in hair make up for the fact that Zayn is still worried about the feelings that have manifested.

“Boyfriends,” is all he says when he pulls back, and he smiles as Liam smiles and nods. “We got this, yeah?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Liam says, smiling so wide his eyes crinkle at the corners. “God, it feels so good to hear you say those words.”

Zayn’s brows furrow. “Why, babe? You thought I wasn’t into you?”

“It’s not that,” Liam says, and suddenly he looks less excited and more concerned. Zayn squeezes at his hip a little. “Can I make you that coffee and can I just, like, ask a couple of things?”

“Sure,” Zayn nods, bouncing up on tiptoes for a final quick kiss. “You’re not, like, worried about anything, are you?”

“Not really,” Liam mumbles, but he doesn’t sound convinced. “I just wanna make sure I have the correct understanding of a couple of things, like…”

“Yeah, anything, babe,” Zayn says gently. He clears his throat. “Um, can I use your loo?”

Liam nods and points through the living room to the little corridor down the other end. “Sure, it’s the door at the end. How do you take your coffee?”

“Black with one sugar,” Zayn says, kissing him again real quick. “Can I make myself at home?”

“Course,” Liam says. “I’ll, um, I’ll get your coffee made. Sofa’s all yours.”

Zayn disappears off to relieve himself, returning a few minutes later to settle in Liam’s living room. One wall just comprises of one huge bookcase, books old and new stuffed in all directions on all the selves. There are several tall, elaborate pot plants dotted around and a coffee table next to the large sofa. There’s a clear dent in one corner of the leather, which Zayn assumes is Liam’s usual perch, then a smaller one on his end, almost like it would fit a pet.

“Hey, Li?” he calls. “Did you say you had a cat?”

“I do,” Liam says, popping his head through the doorway. “She should be around her somewhere. Belle? Belle, bub, where are ya?”

Zayn grins at the name. “I like the name.”

“Thanks,” Liam says. “Hey, you’re not allergic or anything, are you?”

“No, no, just curious. There’s a small circle of cat hair on the sofa, like, almost an exact outline,” Zayn explains. “And you know, you’ve met my housemate, seems only fair that I get to meet yours.”

“She’s around somewhere, she’s either here or on my bed,” Liam says. “Belle!”

Pretty soon a gorgeous tortoiseshell cat emerges, head and tail held high as she winds herself around Liam’s legs. She’s purring loudly, Zayn can hear her from across the room, and Liam bends down and scratches behind her ears. She jumps up a little, pawing at his thigh, and Zayn almost combusts from how adorable the scene in front of him is. Liam catches his eye and winks, scooping the cat up and cradling her as he tickles under her chin.

“Hello, girl,” he preens. “Wanna come and meet the lad I’ve been telling you about?”

Zayn barks a laugh at that. “You talk to your cat about me, do you?”

“Of course,” Liam says, his smile never faltering. “She likes to know all the gossip that goes on in my life.”

Zayn pretends to be offended and presses a hand to his heart. “I’m nothing but gossip to you? Very rude, Liam.”

“You know I don’t think that,” Liam says, rolling his eyes playfully as he carries the cat over to the sofa. “Here, you two bond while I pour the coffees. I need her approval before I opt to keep you.”

“But I haven’t dressed up for her,” Zayn calls playfully after Liam’s retreating frame. “What if she doesn’t like my leather jacket? Thinks I’m too much of a bad boy?”

Belle doesn’t seem fazed by his leather jacket at all, just climbs half into his lap and headbutts his belly. He obediently starts to scratch at her ears, and she purrs louder and crawls up on him properly, circling around a few times before plopping down and staring up at him with wide eyes.

“You’re becoming fast friends, I see,” Liam says as he returns, two tall mugs of steaming coffee in his hands. He sets them on the coffee table and takes a seat in his usual spot, and Belle wastes no time in hopping up and going back over to her own. “Oh, Belle, I thought you were making friends.”

He just gets a lazy mewing in response, so he sighs and moves his hand up and down her fluffy back. “She’s so clingy it’s unbelievable.”

“I can’t believe I’m third-wheeling a man and his cat,” Zayn jokes as he reaches forward for his mug. He blows the steam on the top for a couple of seconds, then takes a sip and instantly feels so much warmer. “God, this is fucking amazing coffee, Liam, bloody hell.”

Liam smiles softly. “I, er, I put a warming remedy in there for you. You were, um, I hope that’s okay, but you were still shivering when we were kissing up there, so.”

“God, and you’re an incredible boyfriend,” Zayn hums, taking another sip. “Considerate and thoughtful.” He grins. “I might just keep you.”

“Yeah?” Liam says, and Zayn _hates_ that little hopeful lilt in his voice, the one that suggests he’s still unsure of what Zayn is doing with him or whether Zayn’s as committed to him as Liam seems to be to Zayn. “That’s, um, that’s…”

“Kiss me,” Zayn commands. “Please, just…”

“Um,” Liam says, body going rigid for a second. But then he carefully hoists Belle out of his lap and onto the floor, and shuffles forward a bit. His hands go out to cup Zayn’s cheeks and Zayn darts forward and closes the space between them. Their teeth clack together and their tongues meet before their lips, but Zayn is practically climbing into his lap a second later, eager for Liam to feel and taste and _know_ how real his feelings are, whether they’re right or wrong be damned.

Liam’s mouth parts for his tongue easily, and Zayn wraps his arms around Liam’s neck and climbs into his lap, pressing Liam back against the cool leather of the sofa. The warmth of Liam’s mouth, his soft lips and the smell of his cologne combined with the way his huge hands sit on Zayn’s waist like that’s where they belong, is intoxicating.

But all too soon, Liam is pulling away. There’s a delicious flush sitting on his cheeks, and his hands run up and down Zayn’s sides almost hesitantly. “Um,” he croaks, too flustered for a few seconds to make coherent words. Zayn thumbs over the baby hairs at the back of Liam’s neck, even cranes his neck ready for another kiss, but Liam shakes his head. “I, um, I do really wanna just ask a couple of things before, um, before this escalates.”

Zayn pants and grins at the same time, brushing his floppy fringe from his eyes. “Okay, babe, fire away. Do I need to get out your lap?”

“N-no, you can stay,” Liam stammers, sounding more surprised than anything. He clears his throat a few times and moves his hand to scratch his cheek. “Um, I just have a few questions about, you know, tonight and where we stand ‘cos of it and stuff. Is that okay?”

Now it’s Zayn’s turn to be slightly confused. “Yeah, course. Um, what’s up?”

“Are you still, like…” Liam exclaims, then loses his nerve halfway through and just audibly gulps up at Zayn instead. “Um, I… you’re not, like, you don’t still have feelings for, um, for Perrie, do you?”

“What?” Zayn blurts, then panics that that came out too quickly. “What, no. No!” He clears his throat awkwardly. “She’s one of my best friends but there are no feelings there, none. That’s pretty much why we split, you know, because we were better as friends and not boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“Yeah?” Liam says, and by his tone Zayn can tell he’s still not convinced. “So I’m definitely not a rebound?”

“You… you thought you were a rebound,” Zayn says, not phrasing it like a question, but more as a sad statement. “Godric, Liam, _no._ ”

“Because that’s how it made sense to me, you know?” Liam continues, gaping up at Zayn some more. “Zayn Malik wouldn’t ask me out for any other reason other than he needs someone to get over Perrie with. You know, because you’re probably aware I’ve always had a massive crush on you, yeah?” Zayn nods sheepishly. “Well, then, there you go. What was I meant to think?”

“Fuck, Liam,” Zayn groans, and this time he doesn’t let Liam protest or push him away; he swoops in and kisses him hard, hands cupping his face and brushing their noses together gently, lovingly, almost. “You are absolutely, definitely not a rebound. Perrie and I are definitely over, and I… I really fucking like you, Liam.”

“I really fucking like you too,” Liam mumbles, and he sighs. “So much, like, I’ve never felt this way before. Ever. This is the best relationship I’ve ever had, probably, and I know it’s been less than a month and all but I think…”

“I know,” Zayn says with a smile. “God, Liam, you’re so important to me. I think… I think you and I could go somewhere, you know.”

_You’re a phony, Malik, a fake and a phony and you don’t deserve him, you shouldn’t do this to him…_

“Okay,” Liam sighs out, and he sounds more placated. “I was just, like, not _scared_ but not, like, well…”

“Li, babe,” Zayn coaxes gently. “Don’t work yourself up so much. I’m only human, and I’m your boyfriend, so you can talk to me about anything you want. I _want_ you to tell me if you’re worried about something.”

“Well,” Liam starts, breathing out an awkward laugh that Zayn can’t help but join in with (and give him another brief kiss for), “I was just a little worried that, like, now Perrie is single again you’d leave me for her.”

Zayn shakes his head. “Nope,” he says simply. “You’re stuck with me, love. Perrie and I are done, and I have this gorgeous new boyfriend who I would very much like to snog for a bit.” His expression darkens. “I hope Perrie is single now though. Not so I can get with her again, but because I don’t think I’ve ever met someone I dislike more than that piece of shit.”

“I… I know,” Liam says, and he sighs. “Listen, Zayn, I’m so sorry. He’s never, ever been that upfront about hating Muggleborns before, I swear. I never in all my life thought he’d say that to one either.”

“It’s not just that though,” Zayn groans. “It’s the way he showed up two of my best friends in one go. He’s a prick, Li.”

“He is,” Liam agrees. There’s a noticeable quiver in his voice that Zayn doesn’t much like. “I don’t… I… I’m worried because, like, our families have been friends for years so even if I stop hanging out with him there’s still that expectation, you know? And, like, I don’t have a huge amount of other friends.” His body slumps underneath Zayn’s, defeated. “I’m just confused, Zayn.”

“You’re always, _always_ welcome in with my lot,” Zayn assures. “And as for your family, do they, um, seriously hold the same views?”

Liam nods. “They’re super weird with it too. Like when I mentioned I got this job at the Ministry – my _dream_ job, no less – one of their first questions about it was who my lab partner was going to be. And when they found out he was a Muggleborn they asked me to swap.” He stares up at Zayn with big, sad eyes. “I… I don’t go home much, as you can probably guess. I’m a bit of a loner.”

“You’ve got me now,” Zayn promises, kissing him again before pulling back and stroking through his fringe. “You’re not alone, babe. You don’t need pieces of shit like that in your life, you need a solid boyfriend who says ‘fuck him, be proud of your job and share it with people like…’”

“Olly, his name’s Olly,” Liam supplies.

“Yeah, share it with people like Olly,” Zayn finishes, then grins. “I’m sorry, like it’s not my place to say, really, but I…”

“I’m glad you said it,” Liam says softly. “I’m glad I’ve got you.”

“You know I’ve got you,” Zayn says. “Seriously, I want you to tell me these things. I want this to be…” He cuts himself off, because he was going to say ‘an honest relationship’ but he can’t bring himself to dig himself even deeper. “I want you to be happy,” is what he settles for eventually. “If anyone deserves their happy ending it’s you.”

“You’re sweet,” Liam says teasingly. His smile is wide, so wide the tops of his eyes crinkle, and he lets out a little giggle that Zayn wants to listen to on repeat every morning and every night. “Hey, you can kiss me again now. I… I feel a lot better.”

“Good,” Zayn says, then kisses him stupid, until all he can taste is Liam on his lips and all he can feel is the overwhelming desire to keep Liam smiling for the foreseeable future.

*

Zayn wakes up the next morning naked, a little bit sore, and only confused for a second before he remembers what happened last night.

He remembers tangled limbs, slick fingers, hot breath and loud moans. He remembers dragging Liam down the hallway to his bedroom, eager hands clutching at his collar and pushing him onto the pillows, keen to get his mouth on whatever bit of Liam’s skin he could touch. He smiles as he thinks about flying clothes and hungry snogs, of breathy groans of each other’s names and hot cum spurting between grinding bodies. He remembers the sweet, tender kisses they’d shared afterwards, and he grins like a teenager who just lost their virginity when he spies the discarded condom on the floor near him, too sated and fucked out to even get it to the bin.

Liam’s bed is beautifully comfortable, the sheets soft and cooling against his sweaty skin, and he nuzzles back into Liam’s cosy warmth easily. Liam snuffles a bit, but he doesn’t wake, and Zayn lets the warm blackness of sleep take him over again, safe and content in Liam’s arms.

He could get very used to this.

*

Harry’s acting normal.

Too normal.

After the debacle on Friday night, Louis was expecting Harry to explode in his face when they got home, but he’d done the complete opposite. He’d kissed Louis senseless the second they were back in their cottage and then bent him over the sofa. They’d got to bed and fucked again, then the rest of the weekend was normal – Harry pottering about and baking, the quiet hum of the telly a constant in the background, and Sunday lunch up in Doncaster with Louis’s nan.

They got back not long ago, and Harry had kissed Louis sweetly on the lips and said he was going for a bath. Louis decides then and there he’s going to sort it out, because even the idea of Harry still being mad at him is upsetting, but it’s even worse when Harry doesn’t voice it. He has this terrible habit of _not_ voicing it as well, which drives Louis up the wall, because he can’t bloody read Harry’s mind and yet the lad almost expects him too. So, yeah, a serious chat is in order, which Louis would have gotten to half an hour ago if it weren’t for the fact that he can’t find his bloody glasses anywhere.

He hunts high and low all around the cottage for them for a good twenty minutes before he gives up, slumping his shoulders as he trudges upstairs to go to bed. He cleans his teeth, has a quick body wash in the sink, then trudges down the hall, pulling his t-shirt over his head as he does so. Harry turned all the lights down to a low glow earlier, so now all he has to do is Bewitch them off when he gets into bed. Tossing his shirt aside in the vague direction of the laundry hamper on their landing, he opens his bedroom door quietly, expecting Harry to be asleep.

Except he’s not – the cheeky shit is up reading a trashy romance novel with Louis’s glasses perched on his nose. He’s also naked as the day he was born, the covers only covering his feet. He’s sat with his knees pulled up to his chest so he can balance the book on them, and he is quite the sight.

“What am I marrying?” Louis says by way of greeting, rolling his eyes as he shucks off his trousers. Harry ignores him (very rudely, Louis thinks) and even when Louis crawls on their bed, also completely naked, his only reaction is to lift up his arm for Louis to snuggle under.

“Don’t speak,” he commands when Louis opens his mouth again. “I’m super close to the end of this chapter and after that we can talk, alright?”

Louis pouts but he resigns himself to just cuddle for a bit, even if it’s only a half-hearted one from Harry’s side. Harry is right, though, and his chapter only takes him a few more minutes to finish the chapter before he carefully slides his bookmark between the pages and sets the book on the bedside table.

“You need to get your own glasses, young man,” Louis admonishes as Harry takes Louis’s off his face and places them on top of his book. “I was looking for those all over the house.”

“Why would I get my own when I have yours?” Harry asks. “What’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine. That’s how it’s meant to be in a marriage.”

“We ain’t married yet, baby,” Louis points out. He hooks the duvet over his ankle and slides it up his leg, and after a few moments of kicking and struggling he’s got it pooled around his waist. He puts his hands on Harry’s shoulders and presses down, encouraging him to slide down too, and pretty soon they’re lying face to face, legs tangled under the sheets and Louis twirling one of Harry’s ringlets round in his fingers.

“You’re like my very own cat,” he hums over the sound of Harry’s purring and pleased noises. “I don’t know why you insisted on getting that demon feline when I have one already.”

“Rude and hurtful,” Harry pouts. “That cat loves you.”

“We both know you’re lying,” Louis tells him, eyebrows raised. “We will never be friends.”

Harry shrugs as best he can from where he’s lying down. “Yeah, well, she’s here to stay, and so are you, buddy. Whatcha gonna do?”

“Listen, I didn’t come in here and get naked in this fucking freezing bedroom of ours to talk about how much you love that fucking cat,” Louis says haughtily. “I have expectations, Styles.”

“Thought we needed to talk?” Harry asks, eyes glinting in a way that suggests he’s not actually that bothered if they don’t and shag instead. “Or what if I just wanna roll over and go to sleep?”

“Then I’m going to jerk myself off, nice and slow, right next to you,” Louis says slowly, teasingly. He brings his hand down to his cock and grips at it, stroking himself slowly and biting his lip in what he hopes is a seductive way. “Gonna get myself nice and hard and have a long, dirty…”

“That’s enough from you,” Harry says, cutting him off and pressing his mouth over Louis’s own chattering one. Batting Louis’s hand away, he replaces it with his own and gives his dick a few swift tugs. “Talk while I toss you off, that’s killing two birds with one stone and all that.”

“You think I’m going to be able to have a serious conversation with your hand on my dick?” Louis asks incredulously, grunting as Harry swipes a thumb over his sensitive tip.

“You started this,” Harry replies haughtily, hand moving up and down tightly and steadily. “Talk.”

“I, um, _bloody hell,_ we need to talk about what happened on Friday, love,” Louis says, mouth dropping open rather uselessly as Harry attaches himself to Louis’s neck and starts to suck. “I – oh my god – I wanted to make sure you were okay, and we, _shit,_ we need to have a talk about _oh… oh…_ ”

“On second thoughts, let’s talk in a minute, shall we?” Harry purrs, thumbing over Louis’s nipple which makes his back arch and his legs fall further apart.  “Wanna hear your pretty noises.” Louis’s a bit rubbish here really, and he’s always been extra rubbish when anything to do with Harry and his dick are involved, so instead of talking he moans a sound of approval and then wraps his arms around Harry’s neck, panting into his bare shoulder.

He comes easily, teeth biting at Harry’s skin and legs kicking out uselessly with the aftershocks. There’s a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead and he laughs breathily as Harry beams at him and brushes hair from his eyes fondly. “Wee menace.”

“You’re pretty when you come,” Harry says brightly, kissing his cheek before he settles back against the pillows, twinning their hands together. “And also I don’t want to talk about my birthday drinks; I want you to make me come.”

“Right, hang on,” Louis groans, pressing Harry onto his back and shuffling down the bed. “Christ, Haz, making me come really got you going, didn’t it?”

“You _know_ it does,” Harry whines, wiggling his hips and pouting. His cock is fully hard, curved up towards his stomach and Louis hums at it happily before he takes it in hand and wraps his lips around the head. All the air seems like it leaves Harry’s lungs in a contented sigh, and with a hand around the base he slides his lips up and down it a few times, adjusting his jaw to the stretch before he takes more in gradually.

The noises and reactions that Louis’s able to coax from Harry’s body when he’s sucking his cock make it that bit more enjoyable, and when he spills down Louis’s throat it’s with a loud cry of his name, so there’s also a proud smugness to boot. As Harry gets his breath back, Louis reaches over to the bedside table and grabs his wand, then casts _Scougify_ to clean up the mess of spunk on the sheets between them.

“Very nice, that was,” Harry grins through closed eyes, like he’s congratulating Louis on a nice meal rather than having had an orgasm. “You treat me very well.”

“I should hope so, fiancé,” Louis says, then flops half his weight on top of Harry dramatically. Harry whines and curls in on himself a bit but after he’s got his breath back (again) he cuddles Louis in and presses a kiss onto his sweat-damp forehead. “Mmmm, warm.”

“Sweaty,” Harry chips in, earning him a swat to the chest. “But also very warm and cosy, you needy little prick.”

“’m not needy,” Louis insists, “if I was needy, I’d be more insistent on that talk.”

Harry sighs and rolls Louis over in his arms, which makes him squawk more than he’ll admit to. “Lou, what do we even need to talk about?” he asks, and he sounds tired. Louis reaches up to touch his cheek. “It was a shitty night out because you got hurt and it was a shitty night because I found things out that I didn’t want to, yeah?” He sighs again, and Louis didn’t realise how hurt his boy was feeling until he gazes into his eyes. “What do we need to talk about?” he repeats.

Louis kisses him first, quick and fierce. “I never meant to lie to you, never ever,” he says, brushing his fingers lightly over the top of Harry’s eyelashes. “But I guess I felt like I had to?” Harry opens his mouth to protest indignantly but Louis covers it with two fingers. “No, listen a second, baby. You… the way you reacted a few days before it made me not want to tell you from the off, yeah? I didn’t know what I was meant to tell you, like, if I was to come home and tell you I got promoted to a special unit with Zayn and a few others I was worried you wouldn’t be happy or you’d ask me to decline it. So I just kept it quiet. It… it wasn’t lying if I technically didn’t tell you?”

“You’re not getting away with that,” Harry says sternly. He rests his forehead on Louis’s shoulder for a second and when he looks up his face is firm. “You did lie, Louis, you can’t pretend you didn’t. We tell each other literally everything.”

Louis looks down, ashamed of himself.

“And of course I’d never tell you to quit your job,” Harry continues, tilting Louis’s head up with his fingers. “What kind of fiancé would I be then? _Hey,_ ” he says coaxingly as Louis raises his eyebrows. “I wouldn’t. You love your job and I love you. I’m so proud of you for getting picked for that team. Bloody hell, Louis. Sometimes everything is just such a drama with you.”

“Excuse you,” Louis pouts indignantly, “but what did you really expect from me? A few weeks ago you were losing your shit in my arms because of this case, telling me to be careful and not to get too involved and all that, and now you’re telling me the opposite?”

“I never said don’t be careful, you twat,” Harry huffs. “But I’m glad you’re taking on the case. You’re _brilliant,_ Louis, and you’re gonna be such an asset. I just wish you weren’t such a knob sometimes.”

“I’m only this much of a knob when you’re involved,” Louis admits, trying to sound sweet. “Only in it to protect you and all that. I just didn’t know what to think.”

“It hurts a little that you thought I wouldn’t be proud,” Harry mumbles, nuzzling his nose into Louis’s shoulder a bit. “I’m always proud of you, regardless of whether it’s something I want you doing. It’s your fucking job, Lou, and I’m your fiancé. _Share_ these things with me. Do you know how shitty I felt when all our friends saw that you weren’t being honest with me? Even Jade and Leigh, who we don’t see that much, knew you were on the team.”

“Baby, they’re on the team with me,” Louis explains. “They’re Aurors too.”

Harry’s brows furrow. “I… I know,” he complains, though it was clear that he’d definitely forgotten that. “Alright, fine, I’ll give you that. But not the point, Lou, the point is you were a twat, and this is why I didn’t want to have this conversation because I think we should just move on. It’s done, you’ve… you’ve sort of apologised? And I accept it.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Alright, alright, little love.” He sighs, then pushes himself forward on the mattress to kiss Harry’s lips. “I am really sorry I didn’t tell you the full truth. I’ve felt guilty about it all weekend, especially because you’ve been so chilled and normal.”

“I wasn’t… I’m not mad, I just wanted you to know I was hurt, a bit,” Harry says. “But it didn’t seem to matter at the time, not after the way that fucking dipshit laid into you.”

“Of course it matters, babe,” Louis insists. “I don’t give a shit about that Agrippa wanker, but I’m gonna give a shit about you for the rest of your life and I need to know if I’ve hurt you, yeah?”

There’s a pause. “Well, when you put it like that,” Harry groans. He leans down to kiss Louis again quickly. “Don’t do it again, okay? If we’re planning a life together we need communication and honesty, because otherwise we’ll fall apart and end up on Judge Judy.”

Louis has to roll his eyes again. “You’ve been watching too much Muggle TV, little one.”

Harry giggle at that. “Maybe, but wouldn’t it be fun?”

“No, it would not,” Louis tuts. “It would probably be rather humiliating, actually. Let’s just talk better.”

“Says _you_ ,” Harry squeaks, but Louis just cuts him off with another kiss, one harder and more passionate than before. Louis’s smiling as he slips his tongue into Harry’s mouth and presses closer, arms warm around his belly and their legs tangling once more.

It’s easy to fall asleep after that. Louis feels lighter, a lot less guilty and a lot more assured, and all in the arms of his favourite boy.

*

“Right, invites!” Harry calls from the kitchen the next day, voice loud over the sound of the boiling kettle. Louis groans, pretending he didn’t know this was coming and that he can’t hear him over the shouts and cheers coming from Match of the Day on the telly. But then there’s an upside down face in front of his own, unruly curls and pouting lips blocking his view entirely.

“What do you _want?_ ” Louis huffs, shoving his hand into Harry’s curls to try and move them out the way. “It’s 2-2, Harry, I need to watch ‘til the fucking end, there’s only a few minutes left!”

“No, _we_ need to get these invites sent out, like, now,” Harry tuts, eyes blinking at him upside down like a kitten on a mission. “I told you this _yesterday._ ” Louis sighs and tries to ignore it, but Harry juts out his bottom lip until it rubs wetly against Louis’s nose.

“I will _end_ you,” Louis hisses, baring his teeth in what he hopes is a menacing manner. “2-2, Harry, it’s fucking…” The sound of cheering fills the room and Louis groans, grabbing Harry by the collar and shoving him aside. “Are you _fucking_ kidding me?!”

“Good, so now you know you’ve won and we can do the invites,” Harry says brightly as he bundles his long hair up into a bun. “Come on, television off, Lou.”

“You’re a devil,” Louis grumbles, but obliges because he knows he’s going to lose. At the moment, in a competition between him and the wedding day itself he’d probably lose. “So what are we doing?”

“Invites,” Harry repeats. “We need to sit down and work our way through our address book so I know how many to send out.”

“You mean we,” Louis says, eyebrows raised. He flops down into a dining chair and picks up the smart leather bound book, running his fingertips over the calligraphy _Harry and Louis’s book of addresses_ on the front. He opens it carefully, letting it fall open on a page with a photo of Zayn waving and grinning up at him. “Okay, so Zayn, obviously.”

“ _No,_ Lou,” Harry says, pouting and tugging the book out of his hands. “We need to work through alphabetically so it’s a proper list.”

“No, here, listen,” Louis argues, pulling the book back over to him. “Do, like, family and friends first so we don’t get too many people, yeah?”

“Well, duh, we can’t have loads,” Harry says. “No more than a hundred and fifty, I don’t think.”

“ _One hundred and fifty?”_ Louis splutters, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. “Harry, are you fucking kidding me?”

“No,” Harry says, sounding affronted. “Why would I be kidding you? Is that not enough?”

“Harry, I literally know ten people,” Louis says, baffled. “And one of them is you.”

He watches the tips of Harry’s ears and the apples of his chubby cheeks go red. “Yeah, like, _obviously_ close friends wise we only have a few, but, like, I want it to be a bit of a do, you know?”

“Yeah…” Louis says slowly, crossing his arms across his chest.

“And, like, we have a lot of family friends?” Harry says, phrasing it like a question. He sounds more worried than Louis thinks he should because they both know Louis’s pretty much willing to do anything to make the wedding exactly how Harry wants it. “Mum knows lots of the big wizarding families and it would be… not _rude,_ maybe, but there’s a certain understanding that certain people will be at certain people’s weddings, does that make sense?” He pauses. “I mean, I just assumed, I didn’t even think about asking you and I’m sorry, I just…”

“Baby,” Louis snorts, leaning forward and tugging a still-chatting Harry in for a kiss by the front of his t-shirt. “Shut up. Invite whoever you want. It’s your day.” He kisses him again. “Also you’re the one who knows the budget, yeah? It can definitely accommodate that many?”

Harry goes even pinker. “It’s, um, it’s big enough. I’ve put a lot of time and thought into this, and Mum’s giving me a nice sum too.”

Louis’s brows shoot up. “How much are we talking?”

There’s a pause, then Harry leans across and whispers something in Louis’s ear that makes him nearly puke up his breakfast.

“ _That much?”_ he shrills. “Harry Edward Styles, do you know how much money that is?”

“Obviously,” Harry says. His ears are practically glowing. “I didn’t want to tell you because I know you’d happily just skip this whole thing and elope, and it _is_ a lot of money, but I’ve wanted this since I was a boy and I…”

“That’s more money than I make in half a year,” Louis gulps. “Fucking Jesus, Harry.” He runs a hand through his hair. “You don’t do things by halves, now, do you?”

“I don’t wanna fight about this,” Harry mumbles. Louis lets out a little noise.

“Who said anything about fighting?” he frowns. Harry looks up at him. “ _Baby_. It’s your day, honestly. I mean, I might not quite understand it, but it’s your wedding day. If it’s important to you then it’s important to me, yeah?”

“Yeah?” Harry says in a small voice. “Like, I don’t want to spend money on it if you’re going to snap at me in ten years that we could have used our wedding fund to pay for day-care or whatever.”

Louis grins and instead of just kissing him, he pushes his chair back to climb into his lap. Wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck, he presses several short kisses onto his face before he says, “kids is something to discuss another day, alright? You want this extravagant as all hell wedding?” Harry nods. “Then it’s yours.” Harry beams and their mouths meet somewhere in the middle, easy as breathing, and they’re both grinning into it because they’re lovesick and dumb and they’re getting _married_. When they pull back, Louis cups Harry’s face and looks him dead in the eyes. “We have forever to think about money. If we’re going to be married and inevitably give up having sex and seeing friends we might as well have a killer final do.”

Harry lets out a cackle, one of his deep belly laughs that Louis just adores. “Okay, okay,” he grins, and then he leans forward and rubs their noses together in a stupid, cheesy gesture that reminds Louis why he wants to spend the rest of his life with this _loser._ “If you’re sure though.” Louis just nods. “I’ll make sure we have a _sick_ honeymoon suite wherever we go, alright? And I’ll fuck you so good, _that_ I can promise.”

“Fucking deal,” Louis grins, wrapping his legs tighter around Harry and the back of the chair as he proceeds to kiss all the breath out of him once more. “You drive a hard bargain, you do.”

“I know,” Harry says, sounding a lot happier than he did a few minutes ago. “I just want this day to be perfect, you know? For me and for you, because it is _our_ day.”

“No, let’s be real here, darling, it is your day,” Louis says. “But that’s okay, I’m happy if you’re happy.”

“Sappy,” Harry tells him. “Love you.”

“Love you, you bloody great knob,” Louis says. He’d happily stay there in Harry’s lap, but Harry has other ideas, for the second after Louis’s love declaration he’s shoving him gently down his legs so he has to plant his own on the ground so he doesn’t topple over. “ _Ow…_ oh, fuck you, Harry, we were having a moment.”

“A moment that we can continue after we’ve sent these invites out,” Harry says plainly, shifting back into groomzilla mode. Louis glares at him. “Louuuuu!”

“ _Fine,”_ Louis gripes, dropping back into his seat next to Harry and tucking himself a little closer to the table. “What have we got here?”

“Right, so,” Harry says, scooting his own chair a little closer to Louis so they can both look over the book, “we start with A. A for Adams.” He turns the page and a smiley girl that Louis vaguely recognises from Hogwarts. “This is Georgie Adams, my year at school. My mum and her mum go way back.” He looks up at Louis hopefully. “Her and her boyfriend then?”

Louis shakes his head, still a little awed and dumbfounded. “I guess, um, yeah?” He shrugs. “If you feel like they warrant an invite to the wedding then yeah.”

Harry beams. “So that’s four invites for the Adams’ then.”

“Wait, four?!”

“Yeah, were you not just listening?” Harry asks a little exasperatedly. “Georgie, her boyfriend – I think his name is Ben – then her mum Lisa and her dad Oliver. That’s four.”

Louis throws his hands up in the air. “Four it is!”

“Louis!”

“What?”

“You’re definitely okay with this?”

“Shut up and turn the page,” Louis chortles, leaning across to press a lingering kiss into Harry’s cheek. “Honestly, you daft git, if you think I’m not willing to do anything you ask when it comes to this wedding then you’re rather mistaken, my boy.”

Harry laces their fingers and beams at him again as he flips the page. It’s only then that Louis realises what he says might have been a bit of a mistake, and his stomach drops, because the photo pinned to the page contains a face he _really_ doesn’t want at his wedding.

“Except invite him,” he says fiercely, eyes flicking from the page up to Harry, then back again. “That’s not happening, no _fucking_ way.”

Harry’s smile fades and he turns to look at the page, then pulls a face. “Oh, Lou…”

Louis can’t stop staring at the page, the snide, too-cheerful face of his biological father staring up at him with a smile, a smile that Louis could almost fall for if the heavy weight of rejection and pain wasn’t still fresh in his bones. It’s a face Louis hasn’t seen in a good few years, not since he was eighteen and Troy had turned up on his mum’s doorstep unannounced, asking for Louis’s forgiveness.

And it’s horrible, really, because Louis remembers it like it was yesterday. He remembers his mum’s arm tight around his waist, he remembers begging Harry to take his sisters and wait for him upstairs so they wouldn’t hear any of it because he couldn’t bear the thought of his young boyfriend getting involved. He remembers tears and shouting and anger and hurt – the pure, unadulterated _hurt_ over anything else – and shouting that it was too late. Because it was too late, and there was so much about Louis’s life that Troy didn’t have the right to be privy to but kept trying to force it, kept trying to find out why Louis was so eager to escape him at boarding school and how he dared manage to afford it. He remembers the man screaming at his mum, so close to her that Louis could see the angry strings of spit forming in the corners of his mouth and the hands balling into fists at his side, about what a waste of child maintenance that was if he was going to turn into an unemployed fag at the end of it.

He remembers not thinking at all and grabbing his wand, slamming it against the side of Troy’s neck and murmuring angrily that if he ever dares speak to his mum like that ever again he’ll kill him. He remembers cold, heartless laughter and, _“what are you going to do with that stick, hey boy?”_ He remembers his mum shouting for him not to, and he remembers forcing himself to do no more than cast “ _Obliviate”_ before he let himself do any real damage.

He remembers his mum telling Troy to fuck off in no uncertain terms, and he remembers clinging to her afterwards feeling like the worst son in the world. He remembers sobbing like a small child in Harry’s arms for the rest of the night because he was never going to have the father figure he’d always dreamed of and because he’d very nearly snapped and done something possibly rather stupid. He remembers waking up the next day with a horrible headache and Harry’s eyes on him, full of a pity and a sadness he never wants to see again.

“It’s not happening,” he says, and he hates how his voice already sounds like it might break. “It’s not fucking happening, Harry, not for all the gold in Gringotts.”

Harry doesn’t say anything for a few moments, but he does reach forward and take Louis’s hand in his. “Can I ask a question?” he says eventually, and Louis freezes but nods after a second, because he doesn’t think Harry would dare.

“I mean, I know this is… it’s not easy for you by any stretch,” Harry says, squeezing his hand and smiling sympathetically, “but, like, what’s the worst that could happen, Lou? You might be able to make amends, and I mean… if you don’t invite him you run the risk of him never forgiving you for it…”

Louis snatches his hand away like he’s been burned, and hearing Harry’s words really makes him feel like he has. He thought Harry of all people would fucking understand, and of all the people to ask him that question it would never be the one who saw him at his lowest after that day. “How fucking dare you?” he says lowly, cool and hard. He feels like he might be sick.

Harry pulls his own hand back from where it’s resting on the table and visibly gulps. He stays quiet, eyes blinking at Louis guiltily, so Louis just barrels on. “He doesn’t deserve to be there because _I_ am never going to forgive him. It’s not the other way around. Do you not remember the worst night of my life?”

Harry looks rather taken aback. “Yeah, no, yeah, _Godric,_ Louis, of course I do. Of course I do but I just… I know how much you wanted to fix it when we were younger and, oh, I don’t know, just because you haven’t mentioned it for years doesn’t mean it has definitely gone away, you know?”

Louis glares at him. “Fuck you, Harry,” he croaks. “Seriously, fuck you.”

“Louis, I don’t…” Harry cuts himself off, hand moving like he wants to reach out and touch Louis but not knowing if he can. “I just wondered, I didn’t want to… I would _never…_ ”

“Didn’t want to what, Harry?” Louis asks coldly. “Offend me by reminding me my father is a piece of shit that I’ll never make it right with? Or by telling me it’s my job to fix it when he’s the one who walked out on me and Mum and then came back because he thought he could fix it easily only to find out I’m a fag now and lost interest?”

“Of course neither of those things, baby,” Harry tries, but Louis holds up his hand menacingly.

“You think you can just get out of this with pet names, _love,_ then you are sorely mistaken,” he drawls, but he’s well aware he’s about five seconds from bursting into tears. “He’s not coming. He doesn’t… he doesn’t deserve to see me happy and he doesn’t deserve to remember that I’m a wizard, yeah? So it’s not fucking happening. And so help me Jesus if you try and argue with me against this then I’m going to Zayn’s and not coming back.” Harry opens his mouth to protest, reaching forward like he wants to take Louis’s hand again but Louis pushes himself back and out of his grasp.  “I mean it.”

“Louis,” Harry whispers, sounding very much like he’s about to cry himself. “Don’t do that, oh Godric, _please._ I never ever want to make you leave. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you felt that strongly. I just… I figured you would have told me or something?”

“What, so we can have a lovely conversation about how you think I should feel?”

“I don’t want to tell you how to feel,” Harry says indignantly. “I don’t do that on purpose, you know. I just want you to be happy, Louis.”

“Well, what would make me happy is ending this conversation, you giving me a fucking cuddle, and then us never mentioning the piece of shit ever again, how does that sound?”

He tries to sound menacing with it, but the second Harry’s shoved his chair back and has collapsed onto his knees in front of Louis with his arms wide Louis breaks, flinging himself into Harry’s embrace and burying his face into his shoulder as he tries to bite back the stupid, _stupid_ tears that he promised himself he wouldn’t cry.

“I love you more than anything,” Harry’s murmuring, arms encasing him in like a child, warm and caring. Louis knows he should be more angry, angry enough not to want or need the hug, but there’s just something about his dad that makes him feel like a small boy again. “I honestly had no idea, Lou, and I’m so, so sorry.”

“Yeah, well, you should be,” Louis mopes, sniffing weakly into Harry’s neck. Harry holds him tight and then pulls him up and into his arms, like a mother carrying their young, before he plops himself down into Louis’s chair and cuddles him closer. Louis can’t even bring himself to protest at the manhandling.

“I know,” Harry says, sounding really rather sorry. Louis can at least take some solace in that. “I know, but I don’t even think sometimes, you know that.”

“Arsehole,” he mumbles, pulling him closer. He moves his head up and smacks an awkward kiss into Harry’s cheek. “Thanks for saying sorry.”

“Of course,” Harry says. It feels like he’s smiling, at least a little bit. “I really am.”

Louis sniffs again, then carefully pulls back so he can look Harry in the eye. “I know, I’m sorry too, it’s just… sometimes I think you don’t really get it, you know?” He pats Harry gently on the cheek. “It’s just a sore point for me and I love you but I need you not to do anything about it. Just… just let me handle this and let’s just keep him well away from the wedding, yeah? Please?”

“Yeah, yeah, consider it done,” Harry says, and he kisses the top of Louis’s head.

There’s a pause, and then Louis says, “I really mean it. Don’t… don’t mention this again, please, or ask my mum about it, or even fucking do that thing I know you’re thinking about doing and secretly invite him because you want us to reconvene on our special day.”

Harry flinches like he’s been hit by a Bludger. “Louis, what the fuck?” he questions, and his voice is laced with hurt. “I would _never,_ not if you asked me not to, I would _never…_ ”

“Okay,” Louis says, tucking his face back into Harry’s neck. “I just need to know you won’t. I just… this isn’t some fucking fairy tale, this is my life. And I don’t want him in it.” There’s another pause and then he utters, “Sorry. I do trust you, I’m just…”

“No, it’s okay. I hurt you, you don’t have to explain yourself,” Harry says. He kisses the top of his head again. “I was a dick; I really was just wondering if enough time had passed for you to want to do anything but if you say no then I’m not gonna press it.”

“Thank you,” Louis says again. He pulls back again so he’s sitting more comfortably atop Harry’s thighs, and he rests one hand on Harry’s chest and the other on his shoulder. “To be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if he turned down the invite if we did send him one. I seem to remember him not being that keen on the fact I like boys.”

“You don’t know that, people change…” Harry starts, but one look from Louis promptly shuts up him. “Alright, alright, you’re right.” He sighs and combs Louis’s now-limp fringe back through his fingers. “For the record, I do hate the man for the way he treated you, and for the way he made you and your mum feel, I do fucking _hate_ him. But I care about you so much so I just thought I would ask, because I just want you to be happy at the end of the day.”

“I’m happy with you,” Louis says on an exhale, and he reaches forward to stroke across Harry’s cheek. “I don’t need him, yeah? I need a family, and I have one with you.” He sighs and knocks his head forward so it’s resting against Harry’s. “You can’t miss what you never had, can you?”

Harry just smiles at him sadly, the same look of pity in his eyes from five years ago that Louis can’t fucking _stand_. “So you keep saying,” he mumbles, wrapping his arms tighter around Louis’s middle and pressing his nose against his cheek. Louis’s never been happier not to be able to look at his fiancé’s face. “But it’s okay. And I am sorry. I just wanted this to be some nice planning that we did for the wedding together.”

“You’re okay, love,” Louis assures, fisting a hand in Harry’s hair and cradling him close. “To be honest, sometimes I forget he exists too. No harm done.”

“That’s a lie and we both know it,” Harry says with a wet laugh. “Fucking hell, Louis, I hate seeing you as sad as you just were. Honestly I’m so sorry, I don’t think sometimes, I’m a twat, I…”

“Hey,” Louis interrupts, turning his head to kiss him ever so gently, “be quiet. As long as you’re on my side here you’re forgiven.” He taps him on the nose before finally cracking a smile. “And I love you too, you fucking dickhead.”

Harry positively purrs, and he rests his head on Louis’s chest and cuddles him tight, humming into his top as Louis laughs and wraps his own arms tighter around Harry’s head. He nuzzles his nose into Harry’s hair and kisses it a few times before he pulls back and cups Harry’s cheeks. Harry looks up at him so fondly sometimes that Louis feels like his heart could burst. He pushes back some of his loose curls and kisses his forehead.

“Can we go back to planning our wedding now?”

Harry beams and he nods, keeping an arm around Louis’s waist as he clumsily shifts the chair forward and reaches for the address book. “Of course,” he says, and rips the page with Troy’s address on it straight out, crumpling it into a ball and tossing it behind him. Louis gapes at him for a moment before Harry says, “we’re not gonna need that, are we? We do only need the important people at our wedding. Like, I want a big wedding, sure, but I want you to be the happiest person most of all.”

“We need family there,” Louis agrees before he smashes his mouth against Harry’s, his smile grand and wide and making it difficult to kiss him in the way he wants to. “Have your big wedding, baby, honestly though. It’s your day.”

“Okay, what we’ll do then,” Harry starts, shifting the chair closer to the table but not putting Louis down like he had before, “is make a provisional list of those we absolutely have to have there and then we can add to it after. Does that sound like a fair compromise?”

Louis nods, turning in Harry’s lap so he can get to the parchment and quill with the list on the table. “Start with the people we absolutely want there. You go first, come on.”

“Okay, well, _you,_ ” Harry starts. Louis tuts but obligingly writes _Harry Styles & Louis Tomlinson _in his scrawl at the top of the paper. “Then Mum. Gemma and Jamie, if they’re still together, you know what those two are like. Dad. Robin. Then Nanny and Grandpa, and Uncle Phil and Auntie Lynne. Oh, and Matty and the rest of the cousins. Lou and Lux. And friends, of course. Zayn and Liam, then Niall, Pez , Jade, Leigh, and Jess and Jake. Ed? Oh shit, your family too.”

“Cheers for putting them in eventually,” Louis snorts, but he squeezes Harry’s hand to show he’s not really mad.

“Yeah, them,” Harry says breezily, pecking his cheek quickly in apology. “And friend-wise from home, I suppose Luke and Calvin?” Louis nods, scribbling their names down easily. “Then Hogwarts friends we’ve got El, Max, and Aiden and Josh. Then there’s Sophia, obviously; oh, and Matt and Dani. I think that’s it, have we missed anyone?”

“Probably,” Louis grins, leaning back against his chest and tickling the feather against Harry’s chin. “But as long as we add my Nanny Olive to the list along with Mark and his new wife, and Mum’s sisters and their families – oh, and Zayn’s family lot, bless them – I think that’s everyone I want.”

“Yeah?” Harry hums, hooking his chin over Louis’s shoulder, “do you mind then if I add a few family friends and that from my side?”

“I’ve already said I want that if you want that,” Louis tells him exasperatedly. “Add as many people as you want, babe – OH!”

“What?”

“Best men!” Louis says, turning excitedly back around to face Harry. “I can’t believe we haven’t discussed this already. I’m _obviously_ picking Zayn, but who are you picking?”

Harry furrows his brows. “Dunno, actually. Aside from you and Zayn – and kind of Liam and Niall I guess now, my best mates are all girls.”

“Ask Perrie then,” Louis shrugs. “You know she’ll fucking love wearing a happy little suit for you. We are nothing if not forward thinking.”

“True,” Harry grins, “okay, cool. I’ll ask her tomorrow at lunch. Oh god, this is so exciting!”

“All becoming very real, isn’t it, little love?” Louis says happily. “We’ll be getting dress robes fitted, next thing we know.”

“Invites first!” Harry insists. “You can make lists of addresses so I can get them sent off to the printers by tomorrow.”

“You trust me with that?” Louis asks incredulously. He wouldn’t trust himself with a job like that. “Are you sure?”

Harry nods firmly. “How hard can it be?”

“You say that now,” Louis replies, eyebrows raised, “but will you be saying that when your poor grandmother doesn’t get her invite because your prize knob fiancé forgot her address because it wasn’t under _Harry’s Nanny_ in the address book?”

“Well, then don’t be a prize knob and forget my poor grandmother,” Harry tuts like it’s that simple. “Kiss me first and then let’s get to work.”

Louis rolls his eyes but happily presses their lips together. Three quick kisses and then Harry’s squeezing him tight like he had earlier before Louis gets the chance to stand up off his lap. “What’s this for?” he asks with a laugh, twisting one of Harry’s loose strands of hair around his finger.

“Just want you to know how much I love you,” Harry says simply. The light, jokey tone that had thankfully replaced the sombre tone of before has gone, replaced with an air of seriousness that Harry brings sometimes, eager for Louis to know how much he cares. Louis secretly thinks this Harry – insistent and serious and so, so soft – might be in his top five favourite Harry moods, not that he’d admit it out loud to anyone ever.

But he nods, and lets Harry kiss him, mumbling the words back against his slick lips. Harry smiles and kisses him again until they’re both breathless and Louis’s head is reeling. It makes it all worth it, really, for these moments when he’s purely Harry’s and any earlier arguments or disagreements are forgotten for the sake of their soppiness.

And after breaking apart somewhat reluctantly, they manage to keep working diligently through the evening and pretty soon there are one hundred and twenty seven guests and six four invites ready to be sent out. Harry tosses the scrunched up page with Troy’s address on it into the fire, then fucks Louis into the mattress not long after.

This is family. This is home.


	4. Salvio Hexia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut o'clock! happy sunday my friends x

Now that the wedding date is set (for the Bank Holiday weekend at the end of August), the invites are out (almost all their RSVPs were back within a fortnight), the venue is booked (it’s to be held in a gorgeous pavilion in the grounds of a stately home not far from Harry’s home village of Holmes Chapel), and they’ve been measured for the dress robes and rings, everything is becoming a bit more real. Which feels really rather stupid to Louis, because he’s been with Harry for so fucking long it shouldn’t feel any different, but Louis can’t get enough of his boy and frankly it’s becoming a rather big distraction.

In fact, he’s quite surprised he’s not been late for more things because he’s been distracted by Harry’s dick, but here they are, Louis’s fists clutched tight in their sheets with his arse in the air, Harry buried inside him to the hilt. His grip is tight on Louis’s hips and he’s fucking him relentlessly, breaths coming out in pants and Louis’s name falling from his lips on repeat.

Everything is white hot and Louis is _so_ close to coming. The pressure on his prostate is heavenly, the feel of everything around him feeling and smelling and _being_ his Harry even better, and with shaky legs he pushes himself forward so Harry slips out of him, then shuffles back and props himself up on his knees. Harry whines at the loss but easily twigs, pulling Louis’s littler body back into his and feeding his cock back into Louis’s hole with little fuss.

“Wanna…” Louis starts, groaning as he get stuffed completely full again. “Wanna kiss your stupid face.”

Harry laughs rather breathlessly. “You big old romantic.”

Louis is all ready to elbow him in the stomach for that, but a particularly lovely thrust stops him, leaving him to grunt and rest his head on Harry’s shoulders. Harry kisses his hair and then wraps his arms around Louis’s waist, which Louis covers with one of this own, the other pumping away furiously at his cock. From this angle, their bodies move in complete sync with every thrust, every twitch, every breath, and Louis rolls his hips back and yanks Harry rather awkwardly down for that kiss (which ends up becoming more them panting into each other’s mouths, but whatever).

Harry comes first, filling Louis deep and biting at his shoulder. Louis can feel his legs trembling but he manages to stay upright and wrapped around Louis like a vine until he himself comes all over his fist with a strangled cry. Harry holds him through it, bless him, then they both just kind of awkwardly topple backwards and land on the pillows, panting and giggling despite the fact that they’re both sticky and sweaty and _late._

“We are so late,” Harry laughs into the back of Louis’s neck. “Zayn’s going to kill you, and Perrie is going to kill me.”

“What’s the issue? It’s only coffee,” Louis states, stretching out of Harry’s grasp to snatch his wand from their bedside table. “It’s not like they’re exes or anything, they’ll be fine.”

Harry snorts and lets Louis go. “You’re not funny,” he tells him, arms going floppy by his sides. He rolls over onto his back and watches with a stupid big grin on his face as Louis casts _Scourgify_ to clean himself up, snorting as he has to press the tip of his wand between his bumcheeks. Louis just shoots him a look.

“Do you know who else isn’t funny?” he says plainly, dropping his wand onto the floor and curling into his side anyway. “The man I just agreed to spend the rest of my life with. He’s _boring._ And predictable. And not cute.”

“Then why are you clinging to me like a bloody Flobberworm?” Harry questions, but winds an arm around his back all the same. Louis practically purrs. “Louis, babe, we are so late.”

“But you’re toasty warm,” Louis says, shuffling closer and throwing a leg over Harry’s thighs to stop him from moving. “Zayn and Perrie can talk without us for a bit, honestly.”

“I still think we should let them know,” Harry says, and Louis can tell he’s scowling without needing to see his face. “I’d be pissed if they did that to me.”

“Fine,” Louis grumbles, rolling over reluctantly to retrieve his wand again before he casts a Patronus. The silver stag gallops out of the tip of his wand, clicking its hooves a few times before it settles. Louis clears his throat.

“Zayn? We’re going to be a bit late, maybe an hour,” he says, voice crisp. “I’ve just had the love of my life balls deep in me and I could use a shower now we’re done. Ta ta, darling!”

“I swear that stag just rolled its eyes,” Harry tells him after they’ve watched it trot off into a fade-out. “Zayn didn’t need to know that, you twat.”

Louis shrugs before flopping down dramatically onto Harry’s chest again. “He’ll live.”

Harry’s the one to roll his eyes this time. Louis thinks this is very rude and pokes him in the belly button.

“Louuu!”

“Cuddles,” Louis demands. “Immediately. Then shower. Then awkward lunch with best friends where we ask them to be our best man and woman.” He coughs. “Like they don’t know already. Zayn would quite literally hex me into next week if I picked someone else.”

He feels Harry yawn into his hair. “Yeah, well, just as well you’re not picking someone else then.” He then groans. “I want to nap now. You’re so fucking needy, making me hold you upright like that. Fucking knackered me out.”

“That kind of talk will get you banned from my arse for the foreseeable future.”

“Do me a favour and be quiet a minute,” Harry tells him, poking at Louis’s tummy. “Honestly, why can’t you just fucking cuddle me after sex like a normal boyfriend would?”

Louis nips at Harry’s ribcage in retaliation, yelping as Harry shoves him back and he nearly topples off the mattress. “Oi,” he squeaks, grappling his way back onto the bed with fire in his eyes. “That was fucking uncalled for.”

“You bit me!”

“I’ve bitten you loads of times,” Louis pouts. “You usually like it.”

“Not out of context, you creep,” Harry says, matching his pout. But his lips are bigger than Louis’s, so naturally it becomes a bit of a competition to see who can pucker their lips out the furthest, which just leads to some awfully messy snogging for a bit.

They’re _so_ late.

*

In the meantime, Zayn reluctantly trundles through the chilly March streets, unsurprised at the Patronus that had galloped over to greet him just before he left the house. He’d rolled his eyes and Niall had snorted, but he’d decided to leave anyway because he hasn’t had a proper catch up with Perrie in bloody ages.

As he trots towards his destination, he finds himself wondering idly whether he and Liam will ever reach the disgustingness and level of domesticity that Harry and Louis have reached. As much as he’s loathed to admit it (and Merlin knows he’d never admit it out loud to anyone for anything) he is jealous of what they have, purely because they’re so solid and they both know it. You can tell immediately that the pair are best friends as well as lovers, and it’s the kind of thing that Zayn’s always wanted to find.

He did think he had it with Perrie at one point. Having met her for the first time when he was just eleven, both nervous First Years squashed together at the Ravenclaw table, they’d started a tentative conversation about where they were both from. They had their first kiss in Fifth Year, they slept together for the first time when they both came back in Sixth Year, and by the end of Seventh Year Zayn was convinced that this was the girl he was going to marry.

Except life doesn’t work out like that, of course. After they’d left Hogwarts and Perrie went off to train to be a Healer, Zayn saw less and less of her. There wasn’t even a big defining moment where he realised he didn’t love her anymore, it just sort of happened. And even to this day he knows he didn’t so much as stop loving her, because he’ll always, always love her. It just became more of an effort, and they both knew that things weren’t the same. They kept going until one day they just didn’t anymore. It wasn’t easy but it wasn’t hard either.

Zayn does miss her though, especially her rather blunt approach to life and the way she’s always been the first to tell him if he’s being an idiot. He’s never been good at keeping secrets from her either, so he has little doubt she’ll be able to tell something’s up pretty quickly.

But the thing is, what’s up is currently that he’s falling. And ordinarily he knows he should be ecstatic about it, because he’s getting what he wants – with Liam, no less – and he thinks that Liam feels the same. They’ve only been together a couple of months but it feels natural and easy and wonderful, really. He thinks about Liam when he wakes up in the morning, he thinks about him during the day, he thinks about him before he goes to sleep. He spends less time with Harry and Louis and Niall and spends most of his evenings with Liam, laughing and joking and doing dumb things and spontaneous things and just… having the relationship that Zayn’s always wanted, if he’s honest.

But the deeper Zayn falls, the more aware he is of the lies he’s telling. Conversations about their days at work feel stilted and Zayn often just encourages Liam to do most of the talking. He doesn’t really feel like saying ‘actually I’m working with a team of our friends to uncover a killer who is clearly utilising you in one way or another to do their dirty work’. That would probably not go down very well.

With a sigh, he trudges down the cold London streets, shouldering past commuters and tourists grudgingly as he makes his way to their favourite coffee shop. It’s windy and he hates London, but for the job he loves and the people he loves it’s an easy sacrifice. It doesn’t take him long to get to the coffee shop, perhaps fifteen minutes, and when he arrives he sees Perrie already there. She waves at him enthusiastically through the window and he grins as he nudges the door open with his shoulder, sidling over to her table easily.

“Hey, love,” she grins, holding her arm up so she can tug him down for a quick cheek kiss. He mumbles a greeting back as he slides into the chair opposite, where he unbuttons his coat. “Chilly today, isn’t it?”

“Very,” Zayn says, rubbing his cold hands together. He eyes Perrie’s huge mug of frothy coffee and raises his eyebrows. “Started without me, I see?”

“I thought you would be here by now,” she pouts, which is a fair point. “Where are the lovebirds?”

“Take a wild guess,” Zayn says, and pulls a face. “I got a Patronus right as I was leaving saying they got ‘caught up’.” He pretends to gag as he air-quotes the last two words.

Perrie pulls a similar face and shudders. “Nasty stuff.” She fumbles in her pocket and produces a Muggle five pound note. “Drinks on me?”

Zayn grins as he takes it, because he forgot to pick up his Muggle money like an idiot and Perrie knows him so well. “You’re a star,” he tells her, standing back up. “Want anything?”

“A muffin?” she asks, turning around and craning her neck to look at the counter displays stuffed full of sweet treats. “Ooh, a triple chocolate one!”

Zayn ruffles her hair affectionately and joins the back of the queue, drumming his fingertips on the counter to the beat of the song humming along quietly through the speakers. It’s not busy so he’s served quickly, choosing a mocha and a scone for himself on top of Perrie’s muffin. He dumps the few coins he gets as change into the garish mug they use for tips and carries the plates and mug over carefully, setting them down and resuming his seat.

“Cheers, pet,” she coos, breaking off a corner of muffin and popping it into her mouth. “How are you then? Haven’t seen you in bloody ages!”

“I know,” Zayn says, cupping his hands around the mug to warm them up. “It’s been near a month, at least. Was the last time at Harry’s birthday?”

Perrie’s face falls a bit. “Oh, maybe,” she says, then busies herself with stirring her spoon round her coffee mug, even though Zayn knows there’s no sugar in it. “That has been a while then.”

Zayn reaches forward for her hand. “Hey,” he says, squeezing it until she looks up at him. “Babes. Pez. Nobody is mad at you for it, I swear.”

She flops back in her seat but keeps her hand in his. “I just, I’ve never felt so _stupid,_ ” she mutters, sounding defeated already. “I can’t believe I went out with that guy for a good couple of months.”

“We all make mistakes,” Zayn shrugs. Perrie rolls her eyes, but there’s no cruelness behind it.

“Says the guy who’s literally dated two people ever,” she huffs. “And one of them was yours truly.”

“You weren’t the mistake,” Zayn says honestly. “How many people can honestly say they had the best first relationship they could have had, yet have happily broken up and are still mates? That can’t be a common thing.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true,” Perrie sighs. She looks up at him and squeezes his hand back. “I didn’t know he was like that, Zee, I swear. He’d always been so nice before, so, like…”

“I know, babes,” Zayn reassures. “You’re not an idiot, are you? You’re usually quite discerning about who you date.”

“Yeah, but like…” Perrie sighs again, cutting herself off. She drops Zayn’s hand and goes back to picking at her muffin. “I am an idiot though. Godric knows why I didn’t pick up on him asking me stupid little questions like ‘oh, remind me which of your friends are Muggleborns again?’ Like, who does that?”

“Angry bigots,” Zayn says, that familiar wave of uncomfortableness rolling through his belly. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget Harry and Louis’s faces from that night. “And even Liam didn’t know he was like that. He was just as surprised as you were.”

“Really?” Perrie asks incredulously. “Do they still speak?”

Zayn shrugs. “I don’t think so. Definitely nowhere near as much as they used to. But I see Liam in most of my free time now and as far as I know, they’ve not met up or anything.” He pauses. “And Liam would tell me that. It’s the kind of daft thing he’d beat himself up with, bless.”

Perrie cracks a grin at that. “And how’s that going?” she prompts. “Have you said those three little words yet?”

Zayn nearly chokes. “What? No,” he splutters indignantly. “We’re nowhere near that stage. We’re just…”

“Just what?” Perrie giggles, sticking her tongue out playfully. “Nearly there?” Zayn blanches and she cackles. “Oh, come on, Zayn babe. I see the way you look at each other. I know I didn’t see you much that night but you didn’t leave his side, and you left with him in a rush. You’re quite the smitten kitten.”

“That night was odd,” Zayn groans as he starts to pick at his own snack. “Liam practically blamed himself for Agrippa’s words, bless his heart.”

“Why?” Perrie questions. “He’s not like that, is he?”

“Of course not,” Zayn says. “You think I’d be going out with him if he was?”

“No, sorry, true,” Perrie replies. “But then why did he feel like that?”

“He thought that I’d blame him for his old best mate being a complete nutcase or something,” Zayn shrugs, spreading jam on his scone. “Honestly, Pez, he was all cut up about it, I thought he was gonna cry and run out.”

“What, like I did?” Perrie snorts. Zayn hurries to shake his head but Perrie waves him off. “It was the shock that got to me, you know? Like, I’d been saying to the girls earlier in the week how gentle and sweet he was and that was the first time he was going to meet them and then that happened? It really caught me off guard, and _fuck,_ you saw what it did to Harry and Louis. Nobody deserves that.”

“Yeah,” Zayn sighs, sagging in his chair at the thought. “It was really bad, weren’t it?”

“Are they okay?” Perrie asks slowly, sounding tentative. “I haven’t seen either of them in person since that night either, and we’ve only spoken briefly to arrange today.” She glances down at her watch. “Not that they’re here, but you know.”

“They’re fine,” Zayn nods. “Work’s a bit shit at the moment, if I’m honest. No, okay, it’s good but it’s a lot, you know?”

“Oh, with this new team thing?” Perrie asks. “Jade told me a bit about it. You’re out trying to catch whoever murdered those poor people,  aren’t you?”

“Voice down,” Zayn reprimands. Perrie pulls a face and presses a finger over her lips, embarrassed. “Yeah, yeah, we are. We’re, like, the Auror task force on it.”

“I’m guessing you can’t tell me much,” Perrie says, pretending to be forlorn. Zayn shakes his head. “Shame. Bet it’s so interesting.”

“It is, but it’s… heavy,” Zayn admits. “I feel like I’ve got a bit of a tougher role to play than everyone else.”

“How come?”

Zayn hesitates, toying with his ring as he weighs up whether or not he should tell her. He did tell Harry Potter he probably would, and Harry had said it would be fine. He does trust her too, and he knows that any reservations he’s having he can hash out so much easier with her than he could with Louis or Niall, purely because she’s a lot more straight-forward and is prone to laughing a lot less when things get serious. So he takes a deep breath and just goes for it.

“Because I’ve got to pretend to date Liam for the case, basically,” he gets out all in one breath. Perrie makes a sort of choking sound and her mouth drops open, so Zayn just barrels on. “There was Muggle CCTV footage of him breaking into a storeroom and stealing some of the stuff used to kill the victims. He works in a department at the Ministry where he has access to them and I think he’s being exploited. So my job is to get close to Liam to, well, keep him safe now,” he says. He shrugs and picks up his mug. “Right, come on, get it over with.”

“Zayn!” she shrills, swatting at him across the table. “Zayn Malik, are you fucking _kidding me?_ ”

“What?” Zayn replies, affronted. The rest of the café are looking at them out the corner of their eyes and he feels his cheeks flame. “Pez, I’m just doing my job.”

“You are such a twat,” she screeches, slamming her name down on the table and making him flinch. “I thought you were in love with him!”

“I… I already told you I’m not,” Zayn says, but it’s weak. Her eyes are wide and she looks positively murderous. “I’m doing my job.”

“Bullshit,” she snaps back haughtily. “I know better than anyone how you are in a relationship, Zayn. The way you look at him…”

“I know,” Zayn says sadly, and it’s only then that the flicker of fire behind her eyes softens a bit. “I know, Pez.”

“Oh,” she says slowly, anger forgotten as suddenly as it came on. “Oh, oh, babe.”

“Harry Potter thinks he could be the killer,” he mumbles, reaching out and taking the comforting hand she’s offering him. “But he’s not, he’s absolutely not, Pez. He’s such a good guy.”

“I believe you, babe,” she says, and sighs. “So how long have you got to do that for?”

“Fuck knows,” Zayn says, shrugging. “I feel more awful about it each day though, Pez. _Godric,_ he’s such a good boyfriend and he wouldn’t hurt a fucking fly and he’s got all these people making sure I watch his every move. _Which,_ can I just say, is mainly taking me out on dates and playing with his cat.”

“He has a cat?”

Zayn nods, smiling fondly. “Yeah. She’s called Belle.”

“That’s so cute,” Perrie simpers, squeezing his hand. “Oh, love, I’ve got to ask. There isn’t a chance that, like, you’re being played here or something, is there? He’s definitely not…”

“No,” Zayn says firmly. “He’s not.” He lets out a long sigh. “I think me being around has been good though. We spend most of our free time together nowadays so there isn’t much time for him to be, like, manipulated or whatever.”

“How do you think they were doing it?”

“ _Imperio,_ it looks like,” Zayn says. “In the CCTV especially, his eyes weren’t right. I honestly don’t know if it’s happened since though.” He bows his head glumly. “Well, it probably has. There have been deaths since that footage came to light.”

“Oh, fuck,” Perrie groans, letting go of Zayn’s hand and flopping back in her chair. “That’s some heavy shit, babe. I’m sorry.”

“I could love him,” Zayn says, barely above a whisper. Perrie must hear him though because her breath hitches. “I could love him, Pez. I know it’s a bit soon, but give it another couple of months and it’ll be a sure thing.”

“Zayn…”

“I don’t want to break his heart,” Zayn continues miserably. “I _can’t_ break his heart, Pez, because if I did I would break my own too.”

“Then don’t let yourself break his heart,” Perrie says. “Do your job. _Protect_ him. Be his boyfriend. That’s what they want you to be to him, so _be_ it. You trust him?”

Zayn nods.

“You believe he’s innocent?”

Zayn nods again. “I don’t just believe it. He _is._ ”

“Yeah, and I believe you, babe, but that’s not the kind of evidence that will protect him in a trial,” Perrie says slowly. “You need to be clever and you need to be careful here. Just keep going as you are and when and if it all comes to head then just fucking protect him, okay?”

“Okay,” Zayn says, letting out a long sigh. He feels restless, his fingers ripping apart his scone. “Thank you.”

“Any time,” she replies, voice soft. “Fucking hell, Zayn, how long have you been carrying this around with you? Who else knows?”

“Louis,” Zayn says, “obviously. I haven’t explicitly told Harry but I assume he knows. Niall, also obviously. Then the rest of the team, so Jade, Leigh, Stan, Cher, Harry Potter, and Ron Weasley.”

“Bloody hell,” she mutters. “Big names there.”

“I know right,” he agrees. “The whole thing feels a bit surreal, if I’m honest.”

“And do they know that you’re… in a bit deep?” Perrie words carefully.

“Just Louis,” Zayn says. “Niall’s not an idiot though, he must know, especially considering how much time I’ve been spending over there recently. And now you.”

“What do they think?”

“Louis thinks I’m being a daft sod,” Zayn says, shrugging. “He’s not convinced he’s not the killer, I don’t think, so he’s always keen on reminding me to be careful. Which I suppose I should appreciate.”

“Bet he ain’t subtle though,” Perrie says.

“Of course not.” Zayn rolls his eyes. “He can be a right twat about it, to be honest. But whatever. I suppose he’s also just doing his job.”

“And what about Niall?”

“You know Ni.” Zayn shrugs again. “Happy as anything, strolling through life without a care in the world. As long as I’m not in any immediate danger he’s alright.”

Perrie nods. “Okay, this all makes sense. But I think you’ll be alright, you know. You’re a smart kid and clearly you care a lot about Liam so you’re not going to let anything happen.” She mirrors his shrug. “Just let it unfurl as it does.”

“God, Pez,” Zayn groans, tossing his head back and staring up at the peeling café ceiling. “How do you always know exactly what I need to hear?”

“Years of practice,” Perrie giggles. She nudges him with her toe and he looks back down. “Are you happy with him, all the bullshit with the case aside?”

“So happy,” Zayn says, and he can’t help but smile fondly as he thinks back over the past six weeks and just how bloody brilliant they’ve been. “He’s fucking brilliant.”

“Well, there you go then,” Perrie says simply. “Fuck what Louis thinks. Fuck what anyone else thinks, because again, case aside, this could be a really important relationship for you.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Zayn says, voice teetering on unsure because he’s only just twigged he’s unloaded a shit-tonne of new relationship baggage on his ex.

Perrie shrugs. “Babe. I’m _fine._ It’s your life, innit?”

“Yeah, but…”

“But nothing,” Perrie says firmly. “You’re my best friend, who just so happens to be my ex-boyfriend. I don’t… I’m not mad or jealous or anything.”

“You’re the best, Pez,” Zayn grins, and he blows her a kiss across the table that she pretends to catch then hold to her cheek.

“I am, aren’t I?” she smirks, draining her mug. “Oh, look who’s _finally_ arrived!”

Zayn turns to see his other two best mates, Harry waving through the glass somewhat sheepishly and Louis looking completely unfazed by Perrie’s glare. The little bell above the café door chimes as Harry pushes it open, holding it for Louis to sidle through, then they both trot over with big smiles on their cold, red faces.

“Hiii,” Harry drawls, waving his large hand clumsily as he drops down in the seat next to Perrie. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her in, pressing a long kiss onto the top of her head. “Hey, Pez.”

“Alright?” Louis says, mainly directed at Zayn as he pulls out the chair next to him and plops down. He waggles his eyebrows before dipping his pinkie into the whipped cream on Zayn’s plate and licking it off. “You two been here long?”

“Since the time you arranged for us to be, yeah,” Zayn sighs, but he’s not annoyed. That chat with Perrie did him good. “Good morning then, I take it?”

“Wonderful,” Louis simpers, and he winks rather exaggeratedly at Harry across the table. Harry flushes. “Got a right thorough dicking, I did.”

“Louis!”

“What?” Louis shrugs, this time dipping his finger in Zayn’s little pot of raspberry jam. “I did. It was a good morning. No point in beating around the bush, babe.”

Zayn rolls his eyes and slides his plate out of Louis’s reach. “We didn’t come here to hear about your sex life, did we? Can you shut up?”

“My poor virgin ears,” Perrie says, jutting her bottom lip out dramatically and pretending to cry. Harry grins into the back of his hand. “How will I ever recover?”

“Shut it, all of you,” Louis bites. “Come on, Haz, let’s get a brew. I’m fucking freezing.”

“Sure,” Harry says, standing up. “Did you bring the money?”

Louis’s eyebrows shoot up. “I thought you had it.”

“Louuu!” Harry whines loudly and sits back down. “I told you to pick it up from the drawer in the kitchen.”

“I was too busy avoiding demon cat,” Louis hisses. The pair glare at each other (Zayn and Perrie can’t help but exchange tired glances) until Louis backs down. “Fine. Let me go into the loos, I’ll Apparate home.”

Perrie groans. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. I’ve got money, you can borrow a tenner from me.”

Louis’s expression goes from pouty to bright in a split second. “Oh, really? Yay, Pez, you’re the very best.”

“I fucking know,” Perrie titters, pulling the note from her purse and holding it out for Louis to take. “But with that you can buy me another cappuccino, alright?”

Louis nods, pretends to flick Harry on the forehead, then shuffles over to the queue. Harry pretends to glare after him indignantly, then turns back to the group.

“Sorry about him,” he sighs, but there’s an unbearable fondness underneath it that Zayn has come to love of both of them. Even when one is being unbearable to the other, there’s so much love underlying it all that Zayn would probably hate it if he didn’t love them both so much. “He’s in an odd mood today, antsy at all hell. Bloody insatiable too, let me tell you. We were nearly late again because he wouldn’t take his hand off my…”

Perrie slaps a well -manicured hand over Harry’s mouth before he can finish that sentence. “I beg of you,” she says, eyes wide, “shut up. Please shut up.”

Harry licks her hand, which makes her shriek, and the two end up in a game of slaps that turns so violent Harry almost knocks the tray of drinks out of Louis’s hands.

“Oi, watch it,” he screeches, too loud for the little café. Zayn just groans and hides his head in his hands, neck burning as he feels all eyes in the café on them.

“Can you all just,” he sighs, “act like fucking adults for five seconds?”

“He started it,” Perrie complains, and Harry goes to argue but Zayn shoots him such a pointed look that he closes his mouth again.

“I don’t care who started it, I’m finishing it,” he says firmly. “Right, enough. Harry, Louis, no more talk about your sex lives. Perrie, no scratching people with your nails.”

“You always used to love that though,” she mutters playfully.

He tuts at her. “No talking about _our_ old sex life either. Merlin, you’re all twenty-two to twenty-four years old.”

“Zayn Malik the buzzkill,” Louis says sagely, slurping obnoxiously on his tea. Zayn ignores him.

“Right, Haz,” he says, addressing him instead. “I get the feeling you wanted to tell us both something by calling us out here today, would that be right?”

“It would,” Harry says, his smile wide and bright all of a sudden. It’s suspiciously like his wedding face. “We wanted to ask you two a rather special question.”

“So Haz and I are nothing if not wonderfully unconventional,” Louis joins in, winking at his fiancé across the table. Zayn can only imagine how adorable the game of footsie they’re inevitably playing under the table is. “And so when we were talking about things like who gets to be our best men and stuff, well, Harry was pretty sure he didn’t want a best man when his best mate is a girl.”

Zayn looks at Perrie to see her face has lit up like a Christmas tree, already almost close to tears. He beams at her and watches fondly as Harry tucks her back under his arm, squeezing her shoulders.

“Pez, will you be my best woman?”

“Of course,” she says, voice wet and shaky already as she flings her arms around Harry’s neck. “Oh, babe, thank you so much!”

“Of course,” Harry echoes, his voice also catchy as he takes a deep breath, a hand stroking up her back. “You’re my best friend.”

So wrapped up in their little exchange is he that Zayn barely registers Louis leaning towards him and murmuring, “you’re my best man, by the way, but you probably already knew that.”

“I am?” he asks after a second’s pause, head snapping round to look at Louis’s feline grin. “Wait, really?”

Louis rolls his eyes in a rather rude fashion, in Zayn’s opinion. “Well, who else am I gonna ask?”

“Dunno,” Zayn says honestly, but truthfully he hadn’t even made the connection that weddings equalled best men. “But seriously?”

“Oh my god, Zayn, shut up and give your best mate a hug,” Louis whines, opening his arms and howling with laughter as Zayn plunges into them. Both of them are laughing, breathless and ecstatic as they squeeze each other tight. Zayn feels a bit like his heart could burst with excitement and pride. Louis’s still giggling in his arms, calling him a daft git for not realising it sooner but Zayn can’t do much more than squeeze him a little tighter and repeat his thank-yous over and over.

“So,” Louis says, pulling back and taking Zayn’s face between his hands, looking him firmly in the eye, “dress robes. Oh mate, I wanna put you in the funniest fucking dress robes, you have no idea.”

Zayn would complain, but it _is_ Louis’s wedding. He’d wear a chicken costume if it made him smile. Harry, however, cuts over him.

“Fuck off, Louis, no, we won’t,” he says. “They’re on us, though, the dress robes. I’ll make sure they’re good ones.”

“You always spoil my fun,” Louis complains. “This whole wedding is done your way and I can’t even dress my best mate in funny dress robes.”

Harry sticks his tongue out at him. “Don’t be a twat.”

“You’re a twat.”

“No, you’re a twat.”

“If you’re quite finished,” Zayn says, pretending to sigh exasperatedly again but unable to mask his affection, “then I’ll tell you I’ll wear anything. It’s your day.”

“Same here,” Perrie chips in. “Godric, I’m just so excited now!”

“Same,” Harry says, smile bright as he reaches for Louis’s hand over the table. “Even if my fiancé is a prize bellend.”

“I am the love of your life,” Louis huffs, but lets Harry take his hand all the same. “And I love you both a lot. You two. You’re honestly two of the best friends we could ask for and in all seriousness I’m so fucking grateful you both said yes.”

“Aw, Lou,” Perrie says, hopping out of her seat and going over to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “I love you too.”

It’s sappy and daft and pretty fucking wonderful, Zayn thinks. He can’t help his fond smile, wide and constant, so much so that his cheeks hurt a bit. Worth it, though.

He’s going to be a _best man._

*

Turns out Harry is so organised when it comes to this wedding that they’ve already scheduled both him and Perrie a dress robe fitting for a couple of weeks after their little coffee shop rendezvous.

For _nine_ in the fucking morning. On a Saturday.

It’s with a great reluctance that Zayn extracts himself from Liam’s warm hold that morning, leaving a little note in the kitchen saying he’ll come back with breakfast. He fixes himself a strong coffee, adding probably too much of Liam’s famous Warming Remedy and taking it out in a little travel mug into the early March cold, fingers turning blue in only a few seconds in the breeze. He’s always been rubbish with winter.

He gets to Madam Malkin’s just shy of nine, and he’s thoroughly unsurprised to find Harry and Louis already there. Harry’s bouncing around eagerly, a bright gold scarf keeping his curls out his face and he chats away to two members of staff animatedly.

Louis, however, appears to be asleep.

Zayn hasn’t been to Madam Malkin’s for years, not since just before he started his Sixth Year and his school robes were just on the wrong side of too short. It still looks exactly the same – little purple sofas dotted around the huge open room, then several little stools in the middle for individuals to stand on and be measured. Huge rolls of fabrics in every fibre, texture and colour line the walls and it’s loud and bustling, despite the Hogwarts term being in full swing.

“Zayn,” Harry calls delightedly when he spots him come into the shop, hurrying over and pulling him into a hug. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re here!”

“It’s nine in the bleeding morning, Harry,” Zayn says, trying to stifle a yawn. “Don’t you know me or Pez at all?”

“Oh, hush,” Harry says, waving him off like it’s nothing and it’s not so early that his own fiancé is currently snoozing in the corner. “Where is Perrie, anyway?”

“Probably struggling to get out of bed like I was,” Zayn jibes, but there’s no real heat behind it, just tiredness. He can’t really complain that he’s getting a whole set of dress robes for free. “She’ll get here though, you know she will.”

“I know,” Harry says, then tugs him by the wrist over to the sofa where Louis is snoring away. “Here, leave your stuff with him.”

Zayn obediently sets down his coffee on the little table to Louis’s side, then unwinds his scarf and peels off his gloves. Once he’s down to just his t-shirt and jeans (and is shivering as a consequence) he steps up onto the little stool that Harry tells him to, and is immediately flocked to by three people in uniform, all brandishing tape measures.

“So me and Lou were thinking a sort of dragon-scale green,” Harry explains loudly over the tailors calling out measurements. “In satin? Maybe a well woven wool, but it’s going to be very hot if the wedding’s in August. With a black undershirt, probably. Tell me, how do you feel about a waistcoat?”

“Bloody Nora, Haz, how much are you paying for this?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Harry waves him off again. “We’ve factored it in.”

“You’re a good friend,” Zayn tells him seriously. “But I hate waistcoats. They make me claustrophobic and itchy.”

“No waistcoat,” Harry instructs the tailor closest to him. “Do you like the colour though?”

“Colour’s lovely,” Zayn says as three pieces of green fabric drop down from the ceiling and hang in front of him. “Not sure about a whole suit in the satin though.”

Harry taps his face a few times with his index finger. “You’re right, you know,” he says pensively. “Too much.”

“Hey, you two,” Perrie’s voice says from somewhere to Zayn’s right. “Sorry I’m late… oh my. Lou couldn’t hack it then, I see.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Louis doesn’t get a say if he’s going to sleep through it all. Now then, coat off and up you get.”

Zayn watches as Perrie stumbles over to Louis’s sofa and shrugs off her jacket and scarf. She’s wearing a plain white camisole underneath, and a simple pair of jeans, and she too looks cold as anything as she walks back over and is helped onto one of the stools by a young lad.

“Right, Pez, what I was thinking for you is a kind of half suit half dress combination,” Harry starts, moving away from Zayn and launching into a detailed explanation of this outfit for Perrie that sounds highly ridiculous. He can’t bite back his laugh as he sees the tailors themselves look at Harry rather incredulously, and Perrie shoots him a glance that says _help me._

It takes a good hour and a half for them to get sorted, and by the end of it Zayn has been measured for and had created a gorgeous suit – short at the front and long at the back, deep green, and made from expensive, dense wool. His black button down shirt is satin, soft and creamy over his skin, and from the way Harry looks close to happy tears when he sees Zayn dressed in the full get-up he guesses he looks bloody amazing.

Perrie too comes out looking absolutely stunning. The tailors (thankfully) ignored Harry and went with their own creation. Her robes match his in colour and touch the floor, with long flowing sleeves and a long tail, all dressed over a slinky black dress. The pair coordinates brilliantly and once Perrie emerges from the dressing room, looking completely beautiful despite her obvious tiredness and the fact that her hair is piled messily on top of her head, Harry bursts into tears.

The sound is enough to wake Louis at long last. Zayn watches out of the corner of his eye as he jolts back to life and then stumbles over to the three of them blearily, cursing as he hits his knee on the corner of one of the side tables, but he winds his arm around Harry’s waist and presses into his side, kissing his shoulder several times in quick succession.

“Hey, hey, little love,” he mumbles, just loud enough for the little group to hear. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Lou,” Harry says weakly, shaking his head and resting his cheek on top of Louis’s shoulder. “Oh, Lou, look at them!”

It’s only then that Louis seems to twig that both Zayn and Perrie are dressed up to the nines in wedding outfits. He gasps and brings his free hand up to his mouth, but it doesn’t do much to cover his smile.

“Oh,” is all he says for a good few seconds. Louis doesn’t cry much, Zayn knows this, but he could swear he sees tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “Oh, you two.”

“Like what you see?” Perrie giggles, twirling around dramatically. Her outfit whips around with her and she looks like some kind of beautiful tree billowing in the wind. “Oh my goodness, Lou, are you crying too?”

“No, it’s sleepy dust,” Louis protests, rubbing at his eyes with his little fist, looking rather like a disgruntled toddler. “I’m still sleepy, I just…”

“You’re not fooling anyone,” Zayn tells him, wrapping an arm around his waist and cuddling into the couple, pressing a kiss into Louis’s sleep-mused hair. “These robes are so lovely, you two, thank you.”

“Yes, thank you so much,” Perrie says, slinking under Harry’s other arm and manoeuvring the group round into one big hug. “I’m so excited for this wedding."

“You bloody best be,” Louis says, muffled by the bodies pressed all around him. “It’s costing us enough.”

“But also because it’s you two, you bloody drama queen,” Perrie says, swatting at Louis’s chest as best she can. “Honestly, I couldn’t be more happy that you two are finally doing this.”

“God, we’re a right lot, aren’t we?” Louis sniffs, rolling his eyes but they all know he doesn’t mean it. “Come on, let’s all stop snivelling and creasing these lovely new robes and go get brekkie, yeah?”

“Can Liam come?” Zayn asks. “Only I promised him brekkie this morning after you dragged me out his lovely warm bed.”

“Yes,” Perrie says before Harry or Louis can say anything. “I need to meet the lad proper like. Haven’t done that yet.”

“That’s true,” Zayn says, and the thought of the two of them meeting so soon doesn’t even make him nervous, just excited. A month ago he would probably have tried to avoid the pair meeting completely, but now he just wants Perrie to see all the wonderful things he does. He wants a best friend to accept him without questioning whether he’s a danger. “I’ll Floo home and get him then.”

“Can’t wait,” Perrie says, just as Harry says, “don’t you fucking dare Floo in that suit.”

“I’m not going to Floo in the suit,” Zayn tells him sternly. “Let me change and then I’ll go grab him, yeah?”

“Leaky Cauldron Full English?” Harry asks.

“Ooh, yeah, lovely,” Perrie agrees, and Zayn nods his affirmation before grabbing his jeans and heading for the changing rooms. He changes quickly, then hangs the robes back up and hands them to one of the shop assistants as he walks back out.

“Right, you lot, I’ll see you in fifteen minutes or so, alright?”

“See you!”

He goes over to the fireplace in the corner of the shop and pulls two Sickles out his jacket pocket, dropping them into the money jar, which then triggers the lid to slide off the little box of Floo powder beside it. He scoops up a handful and then ducks into the fireplace.

“3B Wenlock Road!”

*

Sleeping over at Liam’s flat becomes a regular thing more easily than Zayn expected it to. He’s perhaps home two or three nights a week these days, and that’s mainly to do washing and to have the semblance of a catch up with Niall. Niall doesn’t really seemed phased though, because he’s too caught up in sleeping with someone new.

That person turns out to be Jade, all of people. Zayn learns this one morning when he stumbles sleepily out of his room, bleary-eyed and not letting himself admit that he doesn’t sleep as well without Liam next to him. He’s knackered after having gotten in late from a particularly long date night, and usually he would have just stopped at Liam’s but he’d taken most of his clothes home to wash, meaning he didn’t have work clothes for the next day over there. So he’d come home, slept straight through the night, and woken up to his alarm just as the sun started to come up.

He’s making instant coffee in his pants and trying not to yawn every three seconds when Niall walks in stark bollock naked, hands scratching lazily at his pale hips. Both men make eye contact and freeze, Zayn nearing tipping the mug down himself in surprise.

“Um,” Niall says after a painful few seconds of silence. He slowly moves his hands to his dick to cover himself. “I thought you were at Liam’s?”

“Um,” Zayn manages back. “No?”

“Brilliant,” Niall says, his entire body pink with embarrassment. “Wonderful. I’ll, um, I’ll just…”

“Do you always walk around naked when I’m not home?” Zayn has to ask. “Because I, like… well, I don’t.”

“Not normally,” Niall admits with another nervous laugh. “It’s, um, I just…”

“Baby?” a female voice calls from the hallway. Zayn freezes again and actually does manage to slosh some of his coffee over onto the counter. “Baby, come back to bed.”

“Stay there,” Niall yells, going even redder if that’s quite possible. “Um, I’m… there’s…”

“What’s up?” the voice says again, and Zayn _knows that voice._ “Ni, what’s… oh, shit!”

Zayn averts his eyes up to the ceiling, rather disbelieving and also quite mortified that he’s just seen Jade’s tits so early in the morning. He stifles a laugh behind his hand as Jade shrieks and flees and Niall chases her down the corridor. He hears a “baby, I did tell you to stay there!” before a door slams.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. He goes back to his bedroom, sets his coffee down on his bedside table, and then heads into the bathroom. By the time he’s showered, dressed and finished his drink Niall and Jade have re-emerged, also thankfully clothed and looking rather sheepish.

“So, um,” Niall starts, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck, “me and Jade are a couple.”

“So I see,” Zayn says, eyeing their clasped hands. “How long then?”

“Um,” Jade says, tilting her head to the side as she mulls it over. “When were Harry’s birthday drinks?”

“Well over a month ago,” Zayn tells them, surprised. “What the fuck?”

Niall titters. “You and Liam left and I figured you weren’t coming home so, like, a few of us kept on drinking and then we just…” He turns to look at her fondly. “She came back here and we…”

“Spare me any details, please,” Zayn grimaces. “Merlin’s left bollock.”

Niall smirks and winks at him, and Jade blushes and turns her face into his shoulder. “I am sorry about the whole, you know, dick thing. That was an accident.”

“And, um, the me thing,” Jade pipes up. Her face is positively magenta. “I didn’t mean for you to see my…”

“Me neither, and it’s all forgotten,” Zayn hurries to say. “We don’t have to mention it again.”

Jade and Niall both nod, and then it lapses into an awkward silence. Zayn taps his toes against the linoleum of the floor a few times before he looks up and winces.

“So, um, I’m going to go to work,” he says slowly. “Jade, do you, um…?”

“Um, yeah, yeah, we should…” she says, also trailing her words off. “Um, I’ll just grab my handbag and then we’ll, um, we’ll go. Together. Okay, cool.”

The moment she’s left the room, Zayn turns to Niall properly. Niall has his mouth wide open in a silent laugh, one hand on his forehead and the other pointing at Zayn. Zayn wraps a hand around his wrist and points back, trying not to laugh but Niall has always made that a rather difficult task.

“You little-“ he starts, but doesn’t get his words out before Niall lets out a bark of laughter that startles one out of him too. “How the fuck… _what_ the fuck?”

“Your fucking face, bro,” Niall cackles, slapping his thigh. His laugh echoes around their tiny kitchen, probably carrying down to the bedrooms. “Your fucking face!”

“You think I was ready for that?” Zayn shrills through gritted teeth. “I saw your poor girlfriend’s tits this morning! And now I have to go into work with her. Niall!”

Niall just laughs louder, slapping his thighs and chortling away until Jade reappears, her bag slung over her shoulder and a facial expression bordering on hurt on her face.

“What’s funny?” she pouts, hands on hips. “Niall?”

“Not you, baby, absolutely not you,” he says, shaking his head and slinging an arm around her shoulders so he can kiss her forehead. “Zayn’s face here, ahaha!”

Zayn rolls his eyes and offers Jade a sheepish smile. “Shall we go before Niall injures himself?”

“Please,” Jade says, rolling her eyes and batting Niall away as he plants a slobbery kiss on her cheek. “Ewww, Ni!”

“Bye, babe,” he chirps, then goes and does the same to Zayn’s face. The fat smack of his lips is rather unpleasant but Zayn lets it happen anyway before he pulls on his coat and grabs his bag.

“I would say I’m sorry about him, but I imagine you have a rather good grasp on what he’s like by now,” he says to Jade as they trot down the stairs.

“I’m getting there,” Jade says, cheeks still pink. “He’s rather… a lot, isn’t he? In an adorable kind of way, but a lot all the same.”

“That’s our Ni,” Zayn shrugs. “And I really am sorry about seeing your, um, well…”

“Can we honestly never talk about it again?” Jade pleads. “You said…”

“Right, right, sorry,” Zayn apologises, ducking his head as he shoulders open the main door of their building so she doesn’t note the flush in his own cheeks.

Since their little flat doesn’t have a fireplace, Zayn and Jade have to walk for about five minutes to get to one of London’s secret Floo Networks, invisible to Muggle eyes but incredibly useful. This particular one is tucked between a Tesco Express and a small Indian takeaway, and the pair end up nipping into the Tesco for cans of energy drink and warm croissants from the bakery before they Floo into work. By the time they’re heading up towards the office, easiness has broken into their conversation and there’s even a few laughs. It’s nice like it was before, and he wonders why they’ve never really spoken outside of a simple ‘you’re friends with my girlfriend’ or ‘we work together’ basis, because he reckons she’s going to be really good for Niall.

Leigh-Anne, Louis, Stan, and Harry Potter are already in the office when they arrive, all sat around the big centre table chatting and munching on their various breakfasts.

“Hey,” Harry Potter greets with a little wave. “Coming to join us for breakfast?”

Both of them nod and slide into empty chairs next to each other. He pulls his bag into his lap and unzips it, fishing out his can of Red Bull and then his croissant. He unties the knot he made in the top of the little plastic bag it came in and pulls a chunk off, getting it halfway to his mouth before he stops and stares back at Louis, confused at the stare he’s getting. “What?”

“You two have the exact same breakfast,” Louis states. Zayn nods slowly, holding out his hands and cocking his head to one side.

“Yes?”

“Did you two nip to a shop before coming in?” Louis asks. Zayn nods again. “But don’t you live on opposite sides of London?”

“What’s the big deal?” Zayn asks, just as Jade blurts out, “I stayed at his house.”

Zayn looks at Jade incredulously and the pair of them hold their gaze for a split second before they burst out laughing, loud and slightly hysterical as they both realise at once what that sounds like. Louis’s mouth is hanging open and Leigh-Anne’s spat tea halfway across the table, but both those reactions pale to Harry Potter’s, who knocks his glasses to the floor in shock.

“You… you two?” he asks incredulously as he readjusts them on his nose. “Are you two…?”

“No,” Zayn and Jade both splutter at once, still howling with laughter. He wipes at his eyes before continuing. “Merlin, no. I’m definitely still with Liam.”

Harry raises his eyebrows even higher. “Well, I mean, that’s what we’re paying you for.” The laughter dies from Zayn’s throat and he swallows, nodding shallowly. “Not that you couldn’t have a secret, and you know, _real_ relationship on the side. But it just took me by surprise because I wouldn’t have seen it happening between you two, that’s all.”

“No, no, I’m actually going out with Zayn’s housemate,” Jade giggles. Leigh-Anne lets out a little squeak and claps her hands together. “Relatively new thing, but yeah.”

“I didn’t realise you were telling people,” Leigh-Anne squeals, rubbing her hands together happily. “I’m so excited.”

Louis, on the other hand, stands up and walks round to Zayn’s seat, placing his hands on Zayn’s shoulders and kneading gently, his touch wonderfully familiar and supportive. Even despite Louis’s reservations about Liam, it must have shown as plain as day on Zayn’s face how much the words ‘ _real relationship on the side’_ hurt, and he’s never been more grateful that Louis’s on the team.

“Anyway, now we’ve sorted that out,” Harry Potter says loudly, shaking his head at the scene in front of him fondly, “we should probably get on with work. Which, thinking about it, we should start with a catch up from the man himself.” He gestures casually at Zayn, who goes tense and feels Louis tense behind him.

“Um,” Zayn says dumbly.

“We haven’t had a low-down from you and Liam in quite a few weeks now, have we?” Harry asks. “Been annoyingly distracted by that false lead from that goddamn book.” He’s referring to a connection they thought they’d found, where after Louis’s first epiphany they thought there was a possibility that the killer was recreating a story from a different Muggle writer. It had been a frustrating fuck-up on all their behalves, and Zayn is starting to wonder how clever this killer must be because he’s truly leaving them _nothing,_ truly nothing if it’s got them clutching at straws that weak _._

“Um,” he ends up saying again, “um, well, there’s, like, not a lot to report. I mean, if there was I’d have let you know, wouldn’t I?” He lets out an awkward chuckle and shrugs, but Harry’s still looking at him expectantly. “I mean, I spend a lot of my time with him, and he’s not… he doesn’t act suspicious around me or anything. And he does know I’m an Auror, doesn’t he?”

“That’s true,” Harry says, leaning forward to scribble something on a piece of parchment. “But it hasn’t gone unnoticed that as the two of you spend more time together, there hasn’t been a murder.” He straightens up and shrugs, and Zayn’s heart plummets down even further. “So I don’t know if you’re working as a distraction or something, but either way, I still want you to keep vigilant. Yes?”

“Yes,” Zayn says back, and it probably comes out rather strangled. “Yes, I, um, I will.”

Harry nods and then looks over Zayn’s shoulder to Louis. “Have you been spending much time with Liam then? As Zayn’s best mate and all.”

“Um,” Louis says, just as eloquently as Zayn had, “a bit. Not a lot, you know; been busy planning the wedding and such.”

“Ah,” Harry nods. “Well, that’s fair enough, I suppose. You did get my RSVP to that, by the way, didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” Louis nods, and Zayn can’t see him but he can hear a smile creeping into his voice. “Harry’s very excited that you’re going to be there. He’s a big fan.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Oh, stop it,” he says, though it’s laced with flattery. “I’m honoured, I really am.” He takes a deep breath and turns himself slightly to address the group as a whole. “Right then. Cher’s called in sick today, bless her, so it’s just us lot. So let’s get going. Zayn, Louis…”

Zayn zones out at that, knowing Louis will catch him up on whatever they need to do. Right now he’s just a little pissed off and a lot sad that no matter what he tries to get across, people are still unbelieving of Liam’s innocence.

The group start to disperse, the sound of chairs being pushed back and scraping against the floor snapping Zayn back to reality. Reluctantly, he rises and follows Louis over to one of the little tables in the corner.

“So what are we doing?” Zayn asks, but Louis waves him quiet.

“Bro,” he says, and Zayn _hates_ the pity in his tone, “bro, are you gonna cry?”

“What? No,” Zayn says, straightening up and glaring. “Why would I cry?”

“You need to tell Potter you think that Liam’s innocent,” Louis says, crossing his arms. “I mean, he probably knows, but you need to.” He hesitates. “Maybe leave out the part where you’re shagging him, but definitely tell him you’ve come to that conclusion.”

“I can’t,” Zayn hisses, mirroring Louis’s stance. “He’ll know. He probably already knows.”

“You can’t just not say anything,” Louis hisses back. “He’s going to keep talking about him in that way that makes your face go all scrunchy and makes me as your best mate very annoyed. Even if I do think he’s a killer.”

Zayn has to use extreme self-control not to slam his fist against the table. Instead he settles with, “well, that’s bloody fantastic, isn’t it? If my own best fucking mate doesn’t believe my boyfriend is innocent, then what chance does my boss have of believing it?”

“Look, Zayn,” Louis starts, but Zayn cuts him off.

“Just… just leave it, alright?” Louis goes to say something else but Zayn shoots him such a look that he snaps his mouth shut straight away. “Right, what are we doing today?”

Gingerly, Louis rifles through the stack of parchment in front of him, pulling out a couple of sheets before handing them over to Zayn, who snatches them and starts looking over them, purposefully avoiding meeting Louis’s gaze. Silently, he keeps ignoring him as he uncaps his ink and digs around in his bag for a quill.

 He knows Louis’s caution stems a lot deeper than perhaps the rest of the teams, and it is something they should probably discuss, but right now he’s just annoyed and bitter and tired of it all. He’s not going to talk to Harry Potter either, he’s just going to keep on and get closer to Liam and find concrete proof that he’s innocent because he is _so sure._

Yet despite his certainty, he struggles to shift one thought that Harry Potter had raised that hadn’t actually occurred to him.

Spending a lot of time together _has_ equated to there not being a death for a fairly long while. But that’s… that’s not connected, is it? It can’t be, because Liam was Cursed in that video, there’s no doubt in Zayn’s mind. But something doesn’t sit in his stomach after hearing those words and he vows to be a little more cautious.

*

(It doesn’t work. He spends the night at Liam’s, wrapped up in his arms as they both curl up on the sofa with their respective books. Despite it being a relatively warm night for March, Liam makes him hot cocoa with whipped cream and a splash of whiskey, and they end up making out for hours.

There’s not a malicious bone in Liam’s body, he’s sure of it.)

*

It’s a few days later that Zayn decides to ask Louis about it. It’s been a bit tense between the pair ever since their mini-argument, but Zayn decides to bite the bullet and offers to buy Louis his favourite lunch of ham, egg and chips in exchange for some time to talk. Louis agrees with a scoff of, “as if I’d decline, you numpty,” and the pair of them head to the canteen along with the rest of the rabble as they do almost every lunchtime.

“You didn’t have to do this to get me to talk to you again, you know,” Louis says, a smear of brown sauce on his chin. “You’re me best friend, I would have talked to you regardless.”

Zayn shrugs. “I know,” he says defensively, because he thinks their friendship is a little stronger than ham, egg and chips. “I did want to soften the blow, though.”

Louis pauses, a piece of chip halfway to his mouth. “Right,” he says slowly, drawing the word out. “What do we need to sort out then?”

Zayn pokes at his own lunch with his fork. “I need to talk to you about Liam.”

Louis’s brows scrunch together. “Okay,” he says carefully. “What do we need to talk about?”

“Your attitude towards him,” Zayn says. He sets his cutlery down carefully and gives Louis a look. “Look, Lou, I know you’re wary and stuff about his innocence but do you honestly think I’d say it if I wasn’t sure?”

Louis opens his mouth to reply, but then there are hands squeezing Zayn’s shoulders and he turns to see his boyfriend, nose pink from the March chill and with a grin on his face.

“Hey,” he says, then walks around and drops easily into the seat opposite Zayn and gives Louis a tentative grin. “Hey, Louis.” Louis ignores him and just carries on eating, adding to Zayn’s silent chagrin. “Bought you a present.”

He forgets he’s annoyed almost instantly, face lighting up excitedly. “You did?”

Liam nods, digging in his pocket before producing a tiny wrapped present. He then taps it a couple of times, muttering an Enlarging Charm so it grows to around the same size as Zayn’s coffee cup. “Here. Went and got you this after our conversation last week?”

“What conversation?” Zayn asks as he tears the paper off, which reveals a neat little white box. He unfolds the lid and inside sits a beautifully decorated cupcake, with thick icing and tiny little silver decorations that spell out his name across the top.

Liam’s beaming at him so brightly. “It’s a red velvet cake. You said the other day you’d not had one so I just thought you should have a good one. My sister sent this one down for you.”

“Liam,” Zayn says, struck dumb once again by how fucking wonderful his boyfriend can be. “Fuck, Liam, thank you.” He kicks Louis under the table because he doesn’t even have to look at him to know he’s rolling his eyes. “Lou, look at what I got.”

“Mmm, yes, marvellous,” Louis drawls, mouth full of masticated egg. Zayn kicks him again. “ _Ow._ What? It is marvellous.”

“Be nice,” Zayn hisses. Louis visibly rolls his eyes this time, and the tips of Liam’s ears turn pink. He tries to dispel any more awkwardness by peeling the paper away from the base of the cupcake and taking a huge bite. “Oh, holy fuck,” he hears himself groaning. “Oh my god, this is incredible.”

Liam grins, tongue poking out ever so slightly through his teeth. If Louis wasn’t there and they weren’t in the Ministry canteen, Zayn would probably kiss him stupid right now. But he settles on taking another bite of the cake and matches his smile.

“I’m glad you like it,” Liam says, hooking his ankle around Zayn’s under the table. “And there’s a lot more where that came from if you want to come round later.”

“I thought that was implied,” Zayn snorts. “Meet at the usual place at the end of the day?”

“Sounds lovely,” Liam says.

“If you two have quite finished eye-fucking and being generally foul,” Louis says loudly, dropping his knife and fork into the middle of his plate with a loud crash, “I’m going back to the office. Zayn?”

Zayn groans and glances at his watch. They do only have five minutes before they’re due back, much to his disappointment. “Yeah, one minute,” he says, boxing up the rest of his cupcake before he stands up. He gives Liam a quick peck on the lips and grins. “I’ll see you later then, yeah?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Liam agrees. “Bye, babe.”

Louis has already starting stalking off, so Zayn practically has to jog to catch up with him. Once he does, however, instead of going back into the office, he wraps a hand around his wrist and drags him towards the (thankfully empty) smoking area.

“What the hell was that?" he asks angrily, crossing his arms in what he hopes is a menacing enough manner. “Louis, seriously. Why are you always like this around him?”

Louis’s eyes go wide. “Are you fucking serious, Zayn? What do you mean, why am I always like this?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking serious,” Zayn snaps back. “Why are you so closed off? You’re not closed off to anyone, Lou, I don’t understand.”

Louis’s still looking at him like he’s grown an extra head. “Wow, seriously? I can’t believe you don’t get it, Zayn.” He sighs. “Look, the guy is a _murder suspect._ I have to sit back and watch my best friend fucking fall for someone who for all we know could be responsible for murdering people. People like _me,_ I might add.”

“He’s not the fucking murderer, Louis,” Zayn groans, fisting a frustrated hand in his hair. “How many times do I need to tell you this?”

“Yeah, alright, I get that you think that, but you’ve gotta see things from where I’m coming from too,” Louis says haughtily. “It’s been, what, nearly three months since you started dating him? And I hate to fucking say it but we’re still hardly closer to finding out whose done it. He’s still our biggest lead, and I’m literally just fucking terrified that my best mate is dating a killer.”

Zayn slumps. “Louis,” he says sadly, shaking his head. “I know, I know all that, but he’s _not._ ”

“Where’s your proof though?” Louis demands, slapping the side of his hand into the palm of the other. “How can I know you’re not just saying he’s innocent because he has you under some kind of control?”

“Lou, you saw from the video he’s being Cursed,” Zayn says flatly.

“Yeah, but that’s still our biggest lead,” Louis replies. “That and he’s killing people like me.” He hugs his arms around himself, like he’s suddenly scared of Zayn. “Do you know how scary it is to be the target and to have someone this close to me insist I’m safe when I’ve got no proof of that?”

“I’d… you know I’d never let anything happen to you,” Zayn says, sounding somewhat desperate. “And that includes me letting Liam anywhere near you lot if I thought he was going to be a danger. _Or_ a danger to the mission. Which, to be fair, Lou, you aren’t helping.”

“How?” Louis scowls.

“Why would my best friend in the whole fucking world hate someone like Liam, who for all intents and purposes you know jack shit about and also makes me so goddamn happy?” Zayn asks. “Honestly, the poor lad thinks you still hold a grudge from that fucking Quidditch game in our last year at Hogwarts.”

“To be fair, I still should hold a grudge from that game,” Louis sneers. “Dickhead nearly brained me and knocked me off my fucking broom…”

“That was seven years ago, Louis,” Zayn snaps. “Don’t be a twat. I need your help here, we’re on the same team and I don’t need you to be all arsehole Quidditch bitch on me.”

Louis sighs, deflating. “No, I know, you are right. I’ve been a prick to the lad. But you have to understand why I’m so cautious, don’t you? Even Harry Potter is stuck on this case and he’s Harry fucking Potter, come on. He defeated Voldemort, for crying out loud.”

“I do understand, of course I do,” Zayn says. “Will you just… will you try? If I invite, like, you and Harry round for dinner one day next week or something and you can both just try and get to know him? That would really, really mean a lot to me.”

Louis sighs again. “Yes,” he says after a pause, “but for goodness sake come round to ours. Merlin knows Harry’s a better cook than your sorry arse will ever be.”

Zayn can’t help but smile at that. “Oh, Lou, thank you. Honestly, thank you so much.”

Louis rolls his eyes really rather dramatically so Zayn knows he’s only joking. “Yeah, yeah, I’m the best, I know.”

“No, seriously,” Zayn says, hand on his shoulder, “this means a lot to me. And it’ll mean a lot to Liam too. I promise by the end of the evening you won’t have any doubts.”

“That would be nice,” Louis admits, voice quiet, quiet enough for Zayn to know that Louis’s really serious about this. “I just want to know you’re definitely alright, you know?”

“I know,” Zayn says with a smile, soft and sad. “I know, babe. And I love you for it, I really do, but I’m _so_ sure about this. I know he’s a good one, and I know he’s innocent.”

Louis pulls a face. “You really like this one, don’t you?”

“I really do,” Zayn admits. “I want to keep him, like, pretty long term.”

Louis scrubs a hand across his face. “Well, alright. He better fucking convince me at this dinner then.”

“He will, he absolutely will,” Zayn insists. “And we’ll both be on our best behaviour. No eye-fucking or anything.”

Louis snorts. “Bullshit.” He shakes his head and opens his arms. “Come here, you. Reign in the love.”

Zayn goes easily, squeezing Louis around the middle and nosing at the top of his head. He kisses his scalp and holds him for a few seconds before they break apart. But as they separate, Louis keeps a hold on his shoulders, then shakes him lightly.

“You’re my best mate in the whole fucking world, you know,” he says sternly. “Don’t tell Harry because he’ll cry, but you’re truly the best friend a bloke could ever want.”

Zayn cackles. “Poor Haz.”

Louis waves it off. “He’s fine, he’s got, like, a million friends. But you’re my ride or die, yeah? My bro for life. My platonic love.”

“Stop talking,” Zayn tells him, eyebrows raised. “Oh, fuck, we are so late back.”

“Oh, fuck,” Louis echoes, and the two of them speed-walk back to the office and let themselves in, zooming through the long hallway to their big open room where everyone has already returned and is looking at them with raised eyebrows.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought you two had snuck off for a shag,” Ron calls over, mouth full of apple. “You both look flustered as fuck and guilty as fuck, what happened to you?”

“Nothing,” Louis says at the same time Zayn says, “we had a row.”

Ron snorts. “You two? The thicket thieves I’ve ever known, fighting?”

“Only a bit,” Louis says sheepishly. “It was my fault and I don’t really wanna talk about it, so.”

Ron raises his eyebrows but doesn’t comment. “Okay,” he says after a couple of seconds. “Can you two then go and help Cher research Wizard poisonings?”

“Sure,” they both say at once. They wander over to the table and slide into chairs either side of Cher, who starts babbling away about what she’s found over the past morning.

The day is long but they’re no longer leaving the office when it’s dark outside, which is bliss in Zayn’s eyes. It always makes him more tired, more groggy, and he can’t do much in the evenings other than curl up on Liam’s sofa and complain until Liam comes and brings him hot plates of food or shuffles over to join him for a cuddle. But now the nights are getting lighter and the days are getting somewhat warmer, and he’s looking forward to some time away from the office this weekend. He’s rather grateful it’s Friday, so despite his and Louis’s little head to head earlier he’s in a pretty good mood leaving the office.

He says goodbye to Louis and the rest of the group as they walk towards the Ministry’s Floo Network, as he heads down a different corridor to meet Liam as he finishes. He makes a quick stop at one of the little delicatessens in the foyer of the Ministry, picking up a strong black coffee for himself and a mocha for Liam, then goes and waits outside the door to the plant labs where Liam’s been working for the past few weeks.

Sure enough, bang on half five Liam emerges, coat on and satchel over his shoulder. The smile he greets Zayn with is glowing, and even though they’re in the Ministry and anyone could see, Zayn dares to wrap his arms around Liam’s neck to snog him senseless, almost spilling hot liquid down his back. “Whoops.”

“Hi,” says Liam rather breathlessly as they pull apart, hands locking around the small of Zayn’s back and keeping them pressed close regardless of the threat to his neck.  “You look happy.”

“I am happy,” Zayn says, giving him one last quick peck and then dropping his hold so he can hand Liam his coffee and then take his hand. He swings it between them as he leads Liam out of the Ministry and onto the busy Muggle London streets. The rush hour noises and tired commuters that shove past them, clearly eager to get home on a Friday, don’t make conversation all that easy but Zayn’s just happy to be by Liam’s side, really. He doesn’t know why he lets these things affect him but he can’t deny that his conversation with Louis has helped his mood reach its peak of the week.

The walk from the Ministry to Liam’s isn’t short, but they make the decision to stop at a Muggle restaurant for their supper. Liam looks completely knackered, bless him, and over a dinner of steak and good wine he fills Zayn in about what he’s been doing in the lab with the Mandrakes that day. Apparently they were being particularly loud and disruptive, and when the food arrives Liam attacks it hungrily.

“Didn’t eat lunch in the end,” he explains, swirling his chips around in his blue cheese sauce. “After you and Louis left I ended up just meandering back to the labs. Kinda forgot about getting my lunch.”

Zayn’s brows furrow. “Why, Li? You need to eat, babe.”

“Oh, I know, but you looked a bit upset so I was a bit distracted,” Liam explains, shrugging sheepishly. “Are you and Louis alright, by the way? You both seemed a little off with each other today, that’s all.”

Zayn chews his bite of steak slowly, contemplating his answer. He _hates_ that it has to be a lie. “Yeah, yeah, we’re fine. He was just being a dick.” Liam frowns and opens his mouth to reply, but Zayn rushes to continue because he really doesn’t want Liam to ask whether Louis likes him or not. “Louis was saying today, actually, that you and me should go to his and Harry’s for dinner one night next week. How does that sound?”

Liam’s face lights up. “Really?” he asks, a hopeful lilt in his voice that Zayn can’t fucking stand. “That would be so nice!”

“Yeah, we thought so too,” Zayn replies, forcing a smile. “It’s been… well, I don’t think we’ve actually hung out as two couples yet. Which is, you know, odd considering how much time me and Lou spend together.”

“Yeah,” Liam says wistfully. “Still, that’ll be really nice. Ask Louis if there’s anything he wants me to bring. I’ll happily bring some wine or a pudding or…”

“I imagine Harry’ll have all the food covered,” Zayn explains. “He loves cooking almost as much as he loves Louis.”

Liam whistles. “Oh wow.”

“I know yeah,” Zayn says with a short laugh. “But I’m so glad you’re up for it. I think it’ll be really lovely, all my favourites together.” Liam laughs and he pauses. “Don’t tell Niall I said that. Or Perrie. Or my mum.”

“Pinky promise,” Liam tells him, eyes twinkling. “Hey, do you want to get dessert here or shall we nip into a supermarket on the way home and eat it on our pants on the sofa?”

A waitress scuttles past them then, looking somewhat alarmed, and Zayn laughs, loud and fond and merry. “Yours, I think,” he says after a moment. “Not many clothes and pudding and you sound very appealing and probably not something all these poor Muggles want to see.”

“Agreed,” Liam chuckles. “This steak really is very lovely though, we should come back here one day.”

“We should,” Zayn agrees. “I’m absolutely stuffed though. Not sure how much pudding I’ll be able to eat.”

Liam raises his eyebrows. “We’ve still got a bit of a walk back to mine, I’m sure you’ll walk off the carbs and make some room,” he says cheekily. “Do you need to sit for a bit or shall I get the cheque?”

“Sit, please,” Zayn groans. “Let me get a coffee and then we can go, yeah?”

“Sure,” Liam says, sighing as he finishes up the last bite of his own meal. He sits back in his chair and rubs his belly happily. “Pure bliss, that was.”

They hang around for a little longer, letting Zayn drink his coffee and giving Liam time for another glass of wine. Liam pays the bill and they head out back into London, the few miles between them and home going by quickly enough as their conversation keeps mellow and steady.

They nip into the newsagents underneath Liam’s flat, and Liam uses the last of the Muggle pounds in his pocket to buy a tub of vanilla ice cream and a bottle of raspberry sauce. They then head upstairs, and Liam unlocks the door and they both shuffle in, shedding their coats and shoes and both toppling onto the sofa, which sends Belle scuttling off towards the bedroom with an indignant mew.

“Sorry, girl, I’m sorry,” Liam calls after her, his head thrown back in a laugh. His big, wide smile is Zayn’s absolute favourite, where his eyes scrunch up and his cheeks glow pink and he’s so _unabashed_ with it that it’s nothing short of adorable.

Liam lets out a little sigh, resting his head against the back of the sofa and turning to look at Zayn. “Ice cream now or later then?” he asks, nudging the carton on the coffee table with a socked foot.

“Later,” Zayn says. He reaches out to touch Liam’s cheek and shuffles toward so he can press their lips together. Liam moves into him easily, arm going to his waist to keep them pressed close, and he deepens the kiss. Zayn wastes no time before climbing into his lap so the angle is easier for them to kiss, hot and hard and filthy.

Zayn knows what he wants, but with Liam he doesn’t care nearly as much about sex as he thought he would. For the most part he’s just happy to stay here, tangled in Liam’s arms, pressed as close to him as possible, but then Liam grinds his hips up and the kiss breaks, Zayn letting out a gasp as he clings to Liam tighter.

“Shit,” he mumbles, then dives back in to kiss him harder. Sucking on Liam’s bottom lip, he adjusts his own position so it’s easier for him to grind down and match the movement of Liam’s hips. Pretty soon, the pair are moaning softly into each other’s mouth, noses squashed together and bodies hot.

Zayn wants him in every single way he could possibly want a person.

“Here?” he asks, wrapping an arm tighter around Liam’s shoulder for better leverage. “Or bedroom?

“Don’t care,” Liam moans in between trailing kisses up Zayn’s neck as best he can. “Want you naked though, so make the call.”

“Bedroom,” Zayn decides, though moving sounds less than desirable because that means untangling himself from his lovely boyfriend. “Lube’s in the bedroom.” He kisses Liam again briefly before saying, “want you to fuck me, Li, come on.”

Liam nods eagerly and Zayn climbs off him, holding out his hand for Liam to take. They stumble down the hallway, Liam pressed close to Zayn’s back, and he kicks the door open, once again startling Belle and making her bolt. Liam giggles into Zayn’s neck.

“You’re gonna make her hate me,” he says lowly, breath hot on Zayn’s skin. Zayn takes a deep breath and spins in his arms, clutching at Liam’s forearms. He presses them chest to chest, then slides his hands up slowly, gently, to wrap around Liam’s neck.

“You can apologise to her later,” he hums, lips resting against the stubble on Liam’s chin. He feels drunk, drunk on the wine from the meal and the arousal coursing through his body and _Liam,_ Merlin; he smells absolutely wonderful and manly and gorgeous, and Zayn wants to be underneath him right now. He’s greedy for it, eager to get his hands all over him , wants Liam in a thousand different ways even though he knows deep down he shouldn’t even want him in one.

He’s not thinking about that though. He’s in too deep, and that’s where he’s going to stay.

Liam’s worth it.

Liam responds just as keenly to Zayn’s touch, moving forward so their bodies are touching as much as they can be from this position. Already, Zayn can feel the sweat on Liam’s skin, damp under his work shirt, and he’s impatient to get his hands and mouth on the bare skin. He manoeuvres them backwards so the backs of his legs hit Liam’s bed and then he slowly coaxes them downwards onto the mattress, keeping their bodies flush and tight.

He thinks he hears Liam mumble something like “mine” before their lips meet, and those four letters make Zayn’s heart lurch more than anything anyone has ever said to him. Liam kisses like a dream, hungry yet gentle, and Zayn easily hands over the reins so Liam takes control. He lies back against the plush covers and lets Liam lick into his mouth, hands pinning Zayn’s wrists above his head in a way that should not feel as kind and soft as it does. They kiss and they kiss, and that’s all it takes for Zayn to start getting hard in Liam’s hold. Without realising it, he lets out a soft whine into Liam’s mouth, then pulls back, embarrassed.

Liam, however, pecks him once on the lips then moves down to kiss at Zayn’s jaw. “So hot,” he mutters, scraping his teeth over Zayn’s pulse point. “Your noises drive me crazy, Zayn, fuck.”

Lips meet again like magnets, and Zayn is helpless in Liam’s strong hold. He lets himself be stripped of his button down shirt, smiling softly at Liam’s gentle blush. It baffles him how Liam can go from strong and assured to careful and curious in just a few short seconds. In turn, Liam pulls away briefly to tug his own Henley over his head, before he hovers over Zayn again, face set in a frown.

“What’s wrong?” Zayn asks, and he just had to get his hands back on Liam, so he does. Liam practically nuzzles his cheek into Zayn’s palm, and from there it’s easy for Zayn to coax him down for another open-mouthed kiss.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Liam says against his lips, then breaks off to kiss his chin, then down his neck. “I just don’t know how I got so lucky, that’s all.”

Zayn’s brows furrow. “You sure?” he asks, because he has to, even if his pulse is racing at a hundred miles an hour. “Babe?”

Liam shakes his head. “I want to do everything to you,” he says instead of giving Zayn the concrete answer he wants. He leans down again, lips brushing over Zayn’s once more, and it’s too light to be a kiss but for some reason it makes Zayn’s heart leap more than any kiss they’ve shared today. “What do you want me to do to you?”

“I want you to do everything,” he says, voice shaky but with just the hint of teasing. He nudges his nose against Liam’s cheek, feeling Liam’s hot breath brush against his eyelashes. “Get me naked?”

He phrases it like a question unintentionally, but Liam nods and looks determined as he sets to work unbuckling Zayn’s belt. Zayn lies back against the pillows and watches, but he keeps his hands on Liam’s shoulders, warm palms against warm muscle. Liam’s slow but sure, and normally Zayn would kick the chinos from his legs and then wrap them around Liam’s strong back, but today he wants slow.

Slow, gentle, sweet. He wants Liam in a hundred and one different ways, and yet none of them seem right enough to encompass just quite how he feels about him.

“Zayn?” Liam says, snapping his attention back, and Zayn notices he looks nervous again. “Are you listening to me?”

“Sorry, babe,” Zayn all but whispers, smiling softly. “I was looking at your back muscles. Fucking hell, Liam, you’re so fucking fit.”

“Oh,” Liam says, pleased. The pink flush that paints his cheeks is beautiful. “Thank you. I mean, I do try to keep fit.”

“I know you do,” Zayn grins. “It makes me so fucking hard watching you work out in the living room.”

Liam grunts. “Zayn,” he whines. “You can’t say stuff like that.”

“I’m literally hard and naked underneath you, babe,” Zayn laughs, moving his hand up so it’s resting on Liam’s cheek again. He thumbs over his stubble. “And I’d really like to know what you were saying earlier, sorry.”

Liam’s blush darkens even more. “I, um… can I suck your cock?”

Zayn groans. “Of course you fucking can,” he hisses, letting his head loll back against the pillows. He pushes ever so gently and Liam goes ever so willingly, kissing over the slight softness of Zayn’s tummy and then down towards his pubic hair. His cock is hard, lying curved up against his belly, and he’s barely even been touched yet, _Merlin._ He braces himself, hands curling in the sheets, but Liam doesn’t slide his mouth down like he predicts. No, he presses hot kisses along the length of Zayn’s shaft, and when he finally takes him in hand he runs his tongue up the vein along the underside. Zayn moans loudly.

“Keep making those noises,” Liam whines, and Zayn’s pleasure-fuddled mind takes a few moments to get caught up on the fact that Liam has started wanking himself, getting off on getting Zayn off. Before he has much time to dwell, his cock is suddenly engulfed in a warm, wet heat that has him moaning ever louder than before.

“Liam,” he cries, shaky hands curling in Liam’s short, messy hair. “Liam, _fuck,_ your mouth…”

Liam hums around him, tight and hot, and _Godric,_ he’s been going down on him for half a minute and Zayn’s already ready to blow. He brings one hand out from Liam’s hair and uses it to you with his nipple, thumbing over the sensitive bud with enough pressure to make his back arch.

Liam pulls off with a slurp. “Do you want me to try and take you deeper?” he questions, and his voice is already hoarse and fucked out. “Or do you still want me to fuck you?” He wipes the connecting trail of spit from his mouth and goes pink again. “Can I fuck you?”

Completely baffled as to how Liam’s embarrassed by asking a question like that after just having a cock in his mouth, Zayn makes a hurried noise of affirmation and makes grabby hands for him. Liam moves up and the pair meet in the middle as they kiss, lips on slick lips and sweaty body against sweaty body.

“Fuck me,” he begs, mouth pressed awkwardly against Liam’s cheek. Liam nods and kisses him breathless, then presses him back down against the pillows. He leans back on his haunches and brushes his hair from his face, then scrabbles forward and opens the first drawer of his bedside table. He pulls out a foil packet and a bottle of lube, then glances back at Zayn like he’s still not quite sure.

“Do you… I mean, can I open you up or should I, you know, look away or?”

“Liam,” Zayn whines, and he knows it sounds petulant but he wants Liam’s fingers in him right the fuck now. “I want you. Inside. Fingers.” He laughs a little breathlessly. “Sorry. But yeah, finger me. I want you to.” He laughs again. “I always want you to.”

Instead of laughing as Zayn kind of hoped he would, Liam nods tightly and then leans back again, dropping the stuff in his hand next to Zayn’s thigh and then parting his legs even further. Zayn takes a deep breath and drops them open, shifting his hips a little so Liam can have better access to where he wants him.

Liam takes his sweet time, uncapping the bottle of lube slowly and spreading it over his fingers with a precision that Zayn has never bothered with. With Perrie they became accustomed to each other so fast that neither of them really felt the need to question anything, and with his few random hook-ups he had after her, neither party was particularly fussed about it being gentle or slow or anything like how it is now.

It’s not even like they haven’t done this before. Since sharing a bed, the two have been fairly insatiable, but there seems to be a silent understanding between the pair of them that whatever’s going on now means a little bit more. It’s not hurried even a little bit, slow and sure and gentle, and it feels palpable, like tonight is going somewhere where they’ve never gone before.

He’s still being painstakingly slow, and when the first touch to Zayn’s arse comes it’s so gentle that Zayn barely feels it. It doesn’t breach him at all and Zayn whines loudly, impatient. “Liam,” he crows, pressing his feet flat on the bed and trying to bear down on the finger. “Liam, please.”

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” Liam mumbles, flicking away his fringe again. Zayn lets out an ugly snort, then reaches down so Liam knows he wasn’t laughing at him. “Liam. Babe. You’ve done this before. I’ve done this before.” He props himself up on his elbows. “What are you worried about, sweetheart?”

“Dunno,” Liam says, then cracks a laugh, albeit a short, rather self-deprecating one. “I just really want this to be completely perfect, you know? I just want…”

“It is perfect,” Zayn insists, sitting up as much as he can from this position and cupping Liam’s face. “You’re perfect.” He pauses. “I mean, it’d be even more perfect if you’d get inside me, but yeah. This… you’re… it’s super special, babe. I’m loving every second.”

Liam nods again, but he seems surer this time. From then on, he presses forward and tucks Zayn’s smaller body under his. He presses his slick fingers to Zayn’s hole and goes slowly, so slow that it’s almost dizzying. He begins with one and then works up to two, then sloppily adds more lube. It’s messy and sticky but also smooth and intoxicating, and every little touch to Zayn’s prostate has him jerking and whining louder by the minute.

“Ready?” Liam asks hoarsely, pressing a brief kiss into the joint of Zayn’s knee. Zayn nods hurriedly, his thick hair wild and sweat-mused all over the pillow, spreading his legs as wide as he can without them cramping. Liam wipes his hands on the bedspread and inches forward, arms bracketing Zayn and just keeping them pressed close for a second. Their eyes meet and Zayn grins dopily, wiping a bead of sweat from Liam’s forehead.

“You’re beautiful,” he tells him. “Even when you’re dripping sweat all over me.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” Liam grunts back, then he takes his cock in hand and holds it against Zayn’s rim. He goes to push inside, then flies back onto his knees hurriedly. “Oh, no, oh, shit. Condom, condom, condom.”

“Leeyum,” Zayn groans as Liam moves away, fumbling with the slippery foil packet. He ends up tearing it open with his teeth, which is a move Perrie always used to tell Zayn off for. He forces all thoughts of her out of his mind, though, and hurries to tug Liam down for another kiss the second he gets his dick sheathed in latex.

“In me,” he says, lips sliding from Liam’s own as he speaks. “Please, Liam, need it, need…”

Any words he was about to say drop from his mouth as Liam starts to push in, painfully slow. Liam’s big, long and generous in girth, and it never ceases to amaze Zayn how bloody brilliant feeling this full can be. His nails leave imprints in Liam’s taught shoulders and slip down to his sweaty back as he pushes in ever further, leaving Zayn to do not much more than lie there, mouth open, breath coming out short.

Liam’s thrusts are shallow and short to begin with, but after a while he picks up the pace. Zayn feels like he’s being split open in the most wonderful of ways, and he could probably come just like this if Liam keeps up this pressure on his prostate. Liam peppers kisses to Zayn’s jaw and he tries to kiss back, tries to claim Liam’s lips with his own, but Liam ends up tucking his face into his neck and biting on his shoulder, which sends pleasure-pain coursing through his veins. It’s so much, but not enough right now, so he tries to snake his hand in between their bodies, but Liam smacks it away and replaces it alone. He doesn’t break eye contact with Zayn, and although his hand is a little sloppy and the drag is a little rough, it’s still bringing Zayn closer and closer to the edge with every upward movement.

When Zayn comes, it’s hot and almost a surprise, but Liam twists his hand just right at the same time he digs his teeth into Zayn’s neck in that way that he loves. He spurts all over Liam’s hand and a little on his belly, and only a few seconds later does Liam follow suit, grunting as he spills inside the condom. He keeps his thrusts going until it seems like he just can’t anymore, then stills before he lowers himself down on top of Zayn’s tired body.

Zayn kisses his eyelids and wraps his arms around Liam’s neck, not caring about how sweaty or sticky or gross they are when Liam is just so lovely and snuggly, sated and pretty. He could fall asleep like this _easily,_ but Liam seems to have other ideas because he’s pulling out of Zayn’s arms and shuffling off him.

“Wha… cuddle?” Zayn pouts. Liam nods hurriedly.

“Yeah, course,” he says, then gestures downwards and blushes. “I just hate keeping condoms on, that’s all. They make me feel really gross.”

Zayn tries to stifle a yawn and fails. “That’s totally fair,” he says, voice muffled by the back of his hand. “Christ, Liam, you’ve proper knackered me out.”

Liam laughs a little, tying a knot in the end of the condom and then reaching for his wand on the bedside table. He slides down so his back is pressed to Zayn’s front, then casts, _“Wingardium Leviosa”_ to direct the condom towards the bin.

“My tidy boyfriend,” Zayn coos, grinning as he presses a kiss into Liam’s shoulder. Liam snorts and then kicks the duvet up, sliding it across their bodies.

“Is it too early to sleep?” he asks. “I literally have no idea what time it is.”

Zayn rolls over and checks the little alarm clock on the side of the bed. “It’s twenty past nine,” he says, which is surprising even to him. It feels much later. “I really do wanna sleep though.”

“Well, it is the weekend,” Liam says. “We could sleep for a bit, then get up and have ice cream?”

“It’ll have defrosted by now for sure, let alone in the middle of the night,” Zayn tells him. Liam shakes his head, his hair tickling at Zayn’s chin.

“We’re magic, we can refreeze it, easy peasy,” he says. Zayn presses his smiling lips against the back of Liam’s neck and hums happily.

“Cool,” he says. “Seeing as you’ve got your wand, will you turn off the lights?”

“ _Nox,_ ” Liam whispers. The room falls into a darkness, but it’s still relatively light thanks to the Muggle streetlamps outside, and Zayn snuggles a little closer, eyes falling closed easily and readily.

“Hey,” Zayn says after a few moments of comfortable silence. He feels Liam hum, his hand vibrating from where it’s pressed against Liam’s stomach, moving with the rise and fall of his breathing. “My sisters want to meet you, you know.”

“You have sisters?” Liam says excitedly, rolling over and yawning before he presses himself further into Zayn, an arm draped over his waist. “And you’ve told them about me?”

“Liam,” Zayn says slowly, the feeling of dread suddenly sinking low into his belly. “Liam, I’ve told you before I’ve got sisters.”

“No, you haven’t,” Liam says, still smiling contentedly to himself, fingers messing gently with the charm hanging around Zayn’s neck. “I would have remembered that.”

“No, Liam, I definitely have,” Zayn says, and he’s trying not to panic, he really is, but it’s not really working.  Liam can remember he’s never had a red velvet cupcake but he can’t remember he has three sisters and that’s _wrong._ “We’ve talked about this, like, not that long ago. You have two sisters, Ruth and Nicola. One’s currently on maternity leave and one works as a book editor. One lives in Manchester and the other in Dudley.”

There’s a short but almost deafening silence before Liam mumbles a little, “oh.”

“But it’s… it’s _fine,_ you know,” Zayn says, trying to laugh but they both know it’s false.  “I mean, there’s no way I remember, like, every little detail about each person I know either. But yeah, um, I have sisters. Three. And they want to meet you.”

“That sounds really nice,” Liam says, voice small. He’s biting on his bottom lip hard enough to hurt, so Zayn gently moves his hand up, running the pad of his finger across it so it pops out. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry,” Zayn says, offering a small smile. “Does it ring any bells though? Me telling you I have sisters?”

“Um,” Liam says, and his face contorts like he’s trying to think and just _can’t,_ “I don’t… I don’t know.”

Zayn tries not to let out a worried sob. “The eldest is Doniya,” he hurries to say instead. “She’s twenty-six and works as a bridal make-up artist. Then there’s Waliyha, she’s just turned twenty and she’s training to be a Healer. Safaa’s the youngest in her final year of Hogwarts. Doniya and Wali live together in a little flat on the other side of London, and they’ve been on at me a lot recently to bring you round for dinner or something.”

“They all sound lovely,” Liam mumbles, smiling forcedly. Zayn’s grip on him tightens. “And I’d love to go round for tea one day.” He chuckles wetly. “You know when I’m free, just set up an evening and I’ll be there, of course.”

“That’s… I’d really like that,” Zayn says. He presses their mouths together quickly, sucking gently on Liam’s bottom lip and trailing his hands ever so carefully down his body in a way that he hopes is comforting. Liam kisses back but he’s trembling, like he’s trying to bite back tears. Zayn tries to push them away and keeps kissing him, long and slow and open-mouthed, hoping Liam understands he cares and he isn’t mad and it’s going to be okay, whatever’s happening.

They snog and they snog, until Zayn’s jaw aches and he pulls back, smiling softly and brushing his thumb over the light stubble on Liam’s cheeks. Liam offers a small smile back, more genuine than the ones from before, and with that Zayn feels content enough to kiss Liam’s nose and roll over so his back is pressed to his chest.

“Sleep well, babe,” he whispers into the darkness. Liam hums and kisses the back of Zayn’s neck, settling against the pillows and letting out a long, tired sigh.

It usually doesn’t take long for Zayn to fall asleep, especially in the warm comfort of Liam’s arms, but tonight he can’t switch his mind off. He’s vaguely aware of Liam behind him, also still awake with his mind probably whirring a mile a minute as well, so he makes the conscious effort to try and slow down his breathing.

He’s almost asleep when his mind floats to a memory that makes him jolt right back awake. At breakfast with Harry, Louis and Perrie not two weeks ago, they’d gone to the Leaky Cauldron and while the other four had ordered huge heaping plates of Full English breakfasts, Zayn had ordered one of their giant mushroom and cheese omelettes instead.

_“Not going to order a Full English, babe?” Liam had asked curiously, hand on his knee under the table. Zayn had shaken his head easily enough and smiled back at him, a little confused._

_“No, no, I can’t eat pork, remember? And I’m not big on the veggie sausage alternatives, they taste like cardboard.”_

_“I didn’t know you couldn’t eat pork,” Liam had said like it wasn’t a big deal, then turned back to stirring his coffee. “Good you told me before the next big shop I did, though. One of my family classics is pulled pork, I was thinking about making it for you.”_

It had seemed so innocent back then, but now he makes the connection to when he had definitely told Liam he didn’t eat pork, all those months ago on their first date.

_“I can’t eat pork, I’m afraid,” Zayn says, pressing his lips together. “I’m a Muslim, you see.”_

_“Really?” Liam says, laying his menu back down on the table. “I didn’t know that.”_

_Zayn nods. “Yep, on my dad’s side. His family are from Pakistan but they came to England so him and his brothers could go to Hogwarts. Think my great-grandad was drinking buddies with Albus Dumbledore at some point.”_

_“That’s amazing,” Liam gapes at him. “Bloody hell, what a good piece of family trivia.”_

“Fuck,” Zayn hears himself muttering under his breath before he can stop himself. The back of his neck is prickling with a cold sweat and the feeling of dread is back in full force, sitting heavy in his stomach like he’s been punched.

“What’s the matter?” Liam murmurs suddenly, making him almost jump. “You just jolted, are you okay?”

“I’m… I’m fine,” Zayn grits out. “I, um, had one of those dreams where you think you’re falling, you know?”

“Oh, I hate those,” Liam shudders. “You alright now?”

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Zayn says, barely above a whisper. “Just… just hold me a bit, yeah?”

“Yeah, course,” Liam says, arm already tightening around Zayn’s middle. He feels another kiss pressed into the back of his neck and he sinks into it. “Sleep well.”

“You too,” Zayn says, willing himself to calm down so he can let the welcoming blackness of sleep draw him in and away from his thoughts.


	5. Colloportus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiyaaaa! happy sunday everyone xx
> 
> (warnings for mentions of medical fuck-ups and lots of boys crying)

“This smells bloomin’ amazing, babe,” Louis calls as he trots down the stairs. Harry makes a vague shout back from the kitchen so Louis heads in there, wrapping his arms around his fiancé’s waist and humming.

“Louis, gerrof me,” Harry whines. “You’ll fuck up the presentation.”

“It’s only Zayn and Liam,” Louis huffs, but obediently drops his hold and takes a step back. He leans against the counter and watches Harry pick his piping bag back up. “Are those what I think they are?”

“Strawberry muffins,” Harry says, tongue poking out in fierce concentration. “Only the best for my boy. They’re, like, the pudding afters.”

“Pudding is afters,” Louis says, confused. He sighs. “Have you made a separate pudding?”

“Yes,” Harry nods, shooting Louis a dark look. “I made tiramisu because I know it’s Zayn’s favourite.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Louis says incredulously. “In a good way, of course,” he corrects quickly, then walks over to kiss the pout off Harry’s face. “Though I’m never going to say no to one of your strawberry muffins. A regular little Nigella Contessa you are, or whatever the hell she’s called.”

“That’s the dream,” Harry hums, smiling against his lips. “I want us to be one of those couples who has Sunday brunch with all their friends once they’re married.”

“Brunch on Sundays sounds amazing,” Louis grins, snaking his arms around Harry’s neck and swaying them gently. “Merlin, we are so ready for married life, babe. Look how adult and domestic we are.”

Harry squeals and kisses him again, short and firm. “We are, we really are,” he says, then winks. “Right, let me finish these up. Still gotta finish up the main too.”

“Can I do anything to help?” Louis asks, though he has no intention of actually getting involved with Harry’s cooking because if he fucks up, Harry will actually kill him. “Like, want me to get the wine or make cocktails or set the table?”

“All done,” Harry says, and he leans over to open the fridge to show Louis the three bottles of wine and cocktail pitcher of some drink that fades between green and blue in colour. “It’s amazing, really, what this thing called magic can do.”

“Yeah, alright, smartarse,” Louis drawls, but he’s smiling all the same. “Thank you for doing all this, my love.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Like you would have done it instead.”

“I only offered to have it here because I know how much you love to play host,” Louis says sweetly. He presses a hand to Harry’s chest and stretches up to kiss him again, popping his foot out dramatically. “Love you.”

Harry barely has time to say the words back before there’s a whooshing noise from the living room. Louis leans back, brows scrunched, then walks through the little doorway to see Zayn stood there, arms spread wide in greeting with a bottle of wine dangling from one hand.

“Zayn!” Louis calls dramatically, hand pressed to his heart. “So nice to see you again after so long apart.”

“Shut up,” Zayn drawls, nudging past him into the kitchen. “Hey, Hazza; ooh, smells amazing! What are we having?”

“Thanks,” Harry says brightly, setting the wine on the counter before bundling Zayn into a hug. “It’s Greek lamb shanks cooked with rosemary and red wine, and then basil potato puree with sautéed green beans and carrots.”

Zayn whistles, mouth turning up in an impressed grin. “Bloody Nora,” he says. “Sound delicious.” He pauses, and then, “so what makes lamb Greek?”

“It’s stuffed with feta and tomatoes,” Harry explains. “I’ve wanted to try this recipe out for months.”

“And what better way than with people who wouldn’t dare tell him they don’t like it?” Louis smirks. “Hey, where is Liam anyway?”

“Got held up in the labs,” Zayn tells them. “He’s been working with Mandrakes, you see, and they’ve just had a shipment of new baby ones. Unfortunately his partner’s earmuffs fell off or something so the poor bloke’s been passed out all afternoon.”

“Shit,” Harry says. “Poor bloke indeed. I hated working with Mandrakes in Herbology.”

“Well, if it all goes well, Liam could be, like, revolutionising the entire way we work with Mandrakes,” Zayn says, and it’s said with such unbearable fond that Louis would feign being sick if tonight wasn’t about making more effort. So he doesn’t, instead nodding like he’s impressed before turning his back to reach in one of the cupboards for wine glasses.

“How long does he reckon he’ll be, Zayn?” he hears Harry ask. “Should I turn the oven down?”

“He said he’ll only be about twenty minutes late,” Zayn says. “Ooh, Lou, can I have a glass of red?”

“Course,” Louis says, handing him an empty glass before he wanders over to the fridge. “Haz, is one of these to be served with the lamb?”

“Yeah, that one,” Harry says, reaching over Louis’s shoulder to point. He grabs the one next to it and hands it down to Louis, who uncorks it with his wand. “Did Lou tell you me and him might go on a Muggle wine-tasting course?”

“No,” Zayn snorts, leaning back against the counter and looking amused. “When are you doing that?”

“Well, probably after the wedding now,” Harry says, taking the bottle from Louis and pouring a glass for himself. “But we did, like, half a day of one when we were choosing the fizz for the wedding and it was so fun!”

Zayn shoots him a look, brows raised, but Louis shrugs, unembarrassed by it all. “It was fun,” he says, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder. “We got well into it, didn’t we, sweetheart?”

Harry nods happily, and Zayn asks, “so how much planning have you two got left to do, then?”

“Um,” Harry says pensively, “we’ve got to get the menu finalised with the caterers, and then just, like, the seating plans and stuff. That’s all we can really do until a few weeks before.”

“I still can’t believe you two are getting married,” Zayn says. “Well, I mean, obviously I _can_ because it’s you two, but, like, still. I still feel like we’re teenagers half the time.”

“Yeah, well, believe it, baby,” Louis grins, digging his chin into Harry’s shoulder. “Me and this one are the solidest couple you will _ever_ meet.”

“Fuck knows why,” Harry says, extracting himself from Louis’s grasp and swapping them around so Louis’s in front of him, wrapped in Harry’s strong grip so he can’t fidget. He’s not very impressed, so he makes to nip at Harry’s arm, but Harry doesn’t even flinch. “You see? Louis, stop it. You are twenty-four, _stop._ ”

“What?” Louis asks with a dramatic pout. “Love meee.”

“Merlin knows why but I do,” Harry mutters, and it’s enough to make Louis grin and cease with his nipping.

“I love you too,” Louis says, tilting his head to kiss Harry’s chin. This time, it’s Zayn who fakes throwing up, pretending to gag over the kitchen sink. “Oh, shut your face, Malik. I have to deal with you and Liam eye-fucking literally every lunch time.”

“Don’t be jealous,” Zayn tuts. “Just because our spark is still live and kicking and yours died when you decided to get married…”

Louis and Harry both squawk in sync. “We have a spark,” Harry grunts indignantly. “We have the _brightest_ spark, I’ll have you know.”

“We are always having sex,” Louis adds. “ _Always._ We’d be having sex right now if your sorry arse wasn’t in the room.” He pauses, then he smirks. “Although, Haz here is a bit of an exhibitionist…”

“Enough,” Zayn groans, shuddering. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

Louis opens his mouth to keep arguing, but then the familiar whoosh of an arrival by Floo powder reaches them, and Zayn’s stepping out the kitchen and into the living room like lightening. Harry lets go of Louis’s shoulders and traipses out after him, and Louis brings up the rear, winding an arm around Harry’s waist once they’re stood in the living room.

It’s not awkward, per se, but it’s clear that there’s an air of caution around them now Liam’s arrived. The bloke looks tired but his smile is still genuine, and it gets even brighter when Zayn goes over to give him a quick peck on the lips. They do make a gorgeous couple together, Louis cannot deny, and just seeing the way that they both light up around each other makes Louis really want to get behind them.

He bats away the pang of worry that sits low in his belly about it and fixes his face in a wide, bright grin. “Hiya,” he says cheerily, offering up a little wave. “You alright?”

“Tired,” replies Liam, rubbing at one of his eyes. “Could I bother you for a cup of tea? Sorry, I know it’s not, like, a normal dinner party beverage but I’m gasping.”

“Of course,” Harry says, gesturing to Liam to follow him into the kitchen. “How do you take it?”

“Milk and one sugar, please,” Liam says, voice becoming muffled as Harry sets the kettle on to boil. Zayn tilts his head towards them, eyebrows raised in a silent question, and Louis nods, sidling into the kitchen again. He picks his glass of wine back up and leans against the counter, watching as Harry mills about with a mug and Zayn goes back over to Liam’s side, pressing a kiss into his shoulder.

Conversation flows nicely, if a little bit stilted, as Liam drinks his tea and fills them in on his day and the debacle with the Mandrakes. They end up migrating over to the sofas for the bulk of it, and after about twenty minutes Harry excuses himself so he can plate up their dinner. Louis collects the wine glasses and Liam’s empty mug from the coffee table and takes drinks orders for the meal, then follows Harry into the kitchen.

“It’s going alright, ain’t it?” he murmurs, carefully reaching past Harry so he can grab his wand. He sets the wine glasses rinsing themselves in the sink. Harry, meanwhile, hums his agreement as he hauls the huge crockpot out the oven. “Not too awkward.”

“I don’t know why you expected it to be awkward,” Harry says, picking up a huge spoon and stirring the meat around. Some gravy splashes onto the side and Louis evaporates it easily with a flick of his wand. “Zayn’s your best mate, and he wants you to like his boyfriend.”

“You know why I’m struggling though,” Louis says lowly.

“Yes, babe, I do, but honestly, I’m inclined to believe Zayn,” Harry says. Louis blinks at him. “What? You only have to talk to him for twenty minutes to see he’s just a normal bloke. He wants to help the world by contributing to the way magic folk view Mandrakes.” He shrugs. “Also, I trust Zayn not to let a killer into my marital home.”

“You would hope, wouldn’t you?” Louis says dryly, then he sighs. “Oh, I don’t know, Haz. Something still doesn’t sit right with me.”

“That’s because you’re a natural worrier,” Harry says, flicking his wand at various pots and pans so oil starts to sizzle. “But you’ll get there. He seems like a lovely guy, it almost feels a shame we never gave him the time of day before. Bit of a people pleaser, but then…” He raises his eyebrows and points at Louis, “I’m used to those.”

“That is fucking rude,” Louis scowls. “If you ever want your dick sucked again you’ll take that back.”

Harry snorts. “Look, babe, I’m just saying. I think you and him would get on like a house on fire if you just opened your mind to him a bit. You have to admit, you’re not the kind of person who changes their mind easily.”

Louis continues to scowl. “I am a hugely open minded individual, fuck you.”

Harry rolls his eyes as he starts mashing potatoes rather vigorously. “ _Anyway._ My point is, if you’d stop trying to make this about yourself, that Liam is _nice._ He’s a good guy, he’s funny and the way he looks at Zayn is… well. You should like him for that.”

“I know, I know,” Louis sighs, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter. “I just… oh, I dunno, Hazza.”

“You’ve built this image up in your head, sweetheart,” Harry says gently. “You work so hard and, like, me and Zayn both know and agree you have the right to be wary. We do. But Zayn isn’t stupid, and I like to think I’m not stupid either. I think I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

Louis groans dramatically. “I suppose you are, aren’t you? You’ve always been good at picking friends.”

“And fiancés,” Harry reminds him, eyes twinkling with mirth. “I picked a damn good fiancé and eventual life partner, did I not?”

“You’re trying to butter me up,” Louis says, pointing an accusatory finger in Harry’s face. “You are trying to butter me _right_ up, you curly creep.”

Harry winks at him. “Is it working?”

Louis can’t help but tut. “Maybe,” he drawls, sidling over to him and pressing a hand onto the small of his back. His shirt bunches up a bit and Louis moves his hand so it glides over warm, smooth skin. “In my heart of hearts I know you’re right, I’m just…” He sighs and rests the back of his hand on his forehead, unsure of how to continue.

“I know, babe,” Harry says, presses his lips together and giving Louis a terse smile. “Look, let’s just enjoy the meal and hopefully that’ll make things easier. Have another wine, talk to Liam, and for goodness sake, stop scowling.”

“I’m not _scowling,_ ” Louis scowls. “I am merely showing my distaste, and at the moment it’s mainly directed to that green paste you’re making there.”

“That’s your fucking dinner, you ungrateful brat,” Harry says, eyebrows raised, before he picks up the potato masher again. Since discovering Muggle cooking shows Harry’s spent a small fortune on Muggle cooking utensils, arguing that they taste so much better if done properly and he gets a lot more satisfaction knowing he’s followed the recipe exactly. Louis, having grown up watching his mother stress over cooking tea fast enough to satisfy six hungry mouths, thinks it’s partly bullshit, but he’s not going to say that out loud. “Pass me those tea towels.”

Louis complies, then flicks his wand towards the oven so the plates warming inside it shoot out and lay themselves across the counter. Harry hauls the crockpot over and starts dishing out meat onto each of them. Louis watches, nibbling on his bottom lip and toying with his engagement ring. “I love you,” he blurts, sudden and sincere. “I know I can be a bit of a brat and I’m being difficult or whatever, but I bloody love you, alright?”

Harry stops serving, resting the spoon carefully inside the pot before he wipes his hands on his apron and turns towards him, arms open. Louis goes easily, burying his face into Harry’s warm and familiar chest, while Harry presses several kisses onto the top of his head. “You daft old thing,” he murmurs, moving back ever so slightly, just enough for his eyes to cautiously rack over Louis’s face. “This is really getting to you, isn’t it, baby?”

“It’s just… I am _trying,_ ” Louis mumbles, eyes on the little freckle in the middle of Harry’s chest rather than on his face. “I really am, and I know I just look stubborn or, like, I’m having some giant freak-out here but there really is something wrong, Haz.”

“Baby, we know that,” Harry says, resting his forehead against Louis’s and frowning. “Zayn wouldn’t be doing this if there wasn’t. But honestly, I _am_ with Zayn here. I don’t think Liam’s involved, or if he is involved it’s not from his own volition.” He kisses him quickly. “Look, we’ve already been in here too long, really. Can you help me dish up the food and then we’ll go out and just…”

“Act like we haven’t been gossiping this whole time?” Louis says flatly.

“Just have a nice meal with our friends,” Harry finishes. “Talk to Liam yourself, maybe. Don’t just wait until Zayn gives you an in. Talk to him and get more comfortable doing so. You’re in your own house, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“He could literally kill me,” Louis mutters, then backs away out of Harry’s grip before he gets swatted at. “Alright, alright. That was out of order.”

“It was,” Harry scolds. “Go and be a host, see if their wine needs topping up.” Then he smiles. “Oh, and I love you too.”

Louis smiles softly to himself, pleased, then pads over to the fridge for the wine. He pulls out and heads back into the main room, where Zayn and Liam are pressed close, chatting lowly. “Sorry about that,” he says loudly, snapping them out of their little trance. “More wine?”

“Please,” Zayn says, offering him a slightly awkward smile. “Everything okay in there?”

“Oh, yeah, fine,” Louis says sweetly. “Food’ll be through in a second. Liam?”

“Yeah, lovely,” Liam says, his smile a lot more genuine than Zayn’s. “I’m starving so I’m really excited.”

“It smells gorgeous,” Zayn adds, patting Louis’s hip as he shimmies by to take the empty bottle into the kitchen. “Give my regards to the chef.”

Louis snorts, ducking back into the kitchen where he puts the empty bottle in the sink. Harry’s got his tongue poking out in concentration again as he stacks the green beans up in little tiers. It takes Louis grin fondly, then he headbutts Harry’s arm gently as he leans back to admire the handiwork.

“This is amazing,” he tells him, hand on the small of his back. “My greatest compliments to the chef.”

“You just stole Zayn’s line,” Harry says distractedly. “Do they look even?”

“Love, they look incredible,” Louis says earnestly. “Absolutely delectable. Are they ready?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I’ll bring them out now. Give me a hand?”

Louis obediently picks up two of the heavy plates and carefully carries them to the dining table, setting one down in front of Liam and then the other in front of Zayn. “Here we are,” he says brightly, plopping down into his own seat just as Harry sets his own huge, steaming plate in front of him. “That’s lamb shank stuffed with tomatoes and feta, then basil potato puree there, then sautéed carrots and green beans. And there’s a… _oh. Accio gravy!”_

There’s a pause, and then a floating gravy jug zooms with the air, gradually slowing down so Harry can curl a hand around the handle and set it on a mat in the middle of the table.

“And gravy,” he says proudly. Louis giggles and hooks an ankle around his under the table. “Everyone tuck in!”

Louis dives in, knife and fork already in his hands. He piles a bit of everything onto his fork and takes a huge bite, then moans rather obscenely. “Har- _ry,_ ” he breathes out before taking another huge bite. “Oh my god, babe, you’re so good.”

Harry beams as he pours gravy over his potatoes, and there’s a murmur of agreement from the other side of the table that has him grinning even wider. “Thanks, guys!”

“These potatoes are incredible,” Liam says earnestly. “How did you make them?”

Harry launches into a long-winded explanation of cutting basil leaves just so and other stuff Louis couldn’t care less about. Instead, he focuses on watching Zayn, who shoots him back a pleased smile when he laughs at something Liam says.

Now they have a meal in front of them, it’s a lot more laid-back and a lot less awkward. Louis doesn’t think he quite knew how hungry he was, and he eats the entire plate easily before stealing the leftovers on Harry’s plate.

“Eyes bigger than his stomach, always,” he pretends to tut. “More for me though, so I try not to complain.”

“Why break the habit of a lifetime?” Harry drawls sarcastically. “You haven’t stopped complaining since I first met you.”

“So how long have you two been together then?” Liam asks, tone curious. “Obviously you were together at Hogwarts.”

“Yeah, so we got together in Harry’s fifth and my sixth year, didn’t we?” Louis says, tapping his chin as he thinks. “Yeah, it was, like, right at the beginning of the year because we didn’t want to do the summer apart.”

“We kissed for the first time at the end of the year before,” Harry explains. “I think it was at the end of one of the Ravenclaw parties?”

“Mmmm, yeah,” Louis says dreamily, remembering. “You were all on your own because Niall was chatting up some poor girl in the corner, do you remember?”

“I’m pretty sure that was Jade, you know,” Zayn chips in. “Not that I can really remember ‘cos I was with Pez, but you know.” His hand comes up to cover Liam’s on the table, and Louis and Harry both pretend not to notice. “We should probably start giving him shit for that again, Lou.”

Louis bursts out laughing. “I forgot that,” he cackles. “Poor lad. Yes, we should.”

“That sounds really cute though,” Liam says with a smile. “It’s a shame our paths never crossed at Hogwarts, because you lot are great guys.”

Zayn’s hand comes up to squeeze Liam’s forearm. “That’s true. Although I must say, I wasn’t your biggest fan in our Seventh Year, for obvious reasons.”

Louis snorts a laugh at that, but Liam turns to him, looking rather baffled. “What?” he says incredulously. “You… you didn’t like me?”

Zayn stares back, his brows furrowed. “Well, not… not really. Not after that Quidditch match in November.”

“What Quidditch match?” Liam asks. His expression is blank, and it makes something nervous and angry, almost, stir low in Louis’s stomach. “I wasn’t even on the team.”

Louis can’t help but scoff. “Um, yes, you were. You are a Beater, Liam, and you nearly knocked me to my death.”

“ _What?”_ Liam says, hands flying up to cover his mouth in horror. “No, Louis, _what,_ I would _never…_ ”

“What the fuck?” Louis says loudly, dropping his cutlery onto his plate with a clatter. “Liam, how can you not remember? You literally whacked a Bludger straight at my head and I fell, like, eighty odd feet. I only survived because Madam Hooch just about managed to Bewitch me in time.”

Liam looks a mixture of terrified and shocked. “I… I don’t… I wasn’t…” He can’t seem to form words, and Louis is getting steadily more annoyed, because he _certainly_ hasn’t forgotten about it, so how could Liam?

“It was definitely you,” he says snappily, crossing his arms across his chest. “Zayn, tell him. It was definitely him.”

Zayn, however, looks utterly defeated rather than pissed, much to Louis’s surprise, and it takes him a few moments to form words. “Um, yeah,” is all he manages. “Liam, I…”

“What’s going on?” Harry questions snappily. “Liam, I confronted you right after the match. I screamed in your face and Zayn had to, like, pull me away from you.” Liam just continues to shake his head, expression still blank, eyes still wide and disbelieving. “He was in the Hospital Wing for _two weeks._ It was, like, the talk of the school.” Still nothing. “Are you fucking _kidding_ me?”

“Harry,” Zayn says sharply. Louis instinctively glares at him, hand possessively going to grip Harry’s knee, but Zayn just shakes his head and glares back. “Lou, please.”

“Please what?” Louis snaps, but Liam interrupts, standing up abruptly and stumbling backwards, almost knocking his chair over.

“I, um… bathroom,” he slurs, then moves out of there before he gets a response from any of them. The second he’s (probably) out of earshot, Louis slams a fist onto the table.

“What the _fuck_ is going on, Zayn?” he barks. “What’s with this bullshit ‘I’m too nicey nicey to ever do something like that’ fucking fake attitude? You said yourself that he thought I still held a grudge against him for the Quidditch match, but here he is…”

“It’s not fake,” Zayn croaks, and _fuck,_ he sounds like he’s about to cry. Louis shuts up immediately. “He’s having his memory wiped regularly, and one of the side effects is overall memory loss.” He shrugs, his trembling bottom lip caught between his teeth. “I thought it was only a few little things, but it’s getting worse.”

“Wait, what?” Harry asks. Louis squeezes his knee again and then hops out of his seat, hurrying round to wrap his arms around Zayn’s shoulders. “Oh, shit. Babe, don’t cry.”

“He couldn’t… he’s definitely not faking it, is he?” Louis asks tentatively, and regrets it immediately when he’s rewarded with an angry hiss from Zayn and a shocked glare from Harry.

“He forgot I had sisters,” Zayn says mournfully. “At the beginning of our relationship, he was amazing with all the little details. And now… it’s the only explanation I can think of. And it makes sense, you know? How the killer can cast _Imperio_ so many times and he just isn’t aware.” He sighs sadly. “I did some research at work the other day. Prolonged exposure to _Obliviate_ means it needs to be cast more powerfully, and as such I think it’s affecting his long-term memory.”

“So, like, he just… he doesn’t remember that at all?” Louis asks carefully. Zayn shakes his head against Louis’s chest. “He doesn’t remember entire chunks of his life?” Again, Zayn shakes his head.

“No,” he says with a shrug. “It’s just, like, mind blanks. I had to fill him in about his own sisters the other day. That one was… hard.”

“Babe,” Louis says sympathetically. “Why are you only just telling us this now?”

“I don’t… because you didn’t _like_ him, Lou,” Zayn wails. “You didn’t like him and I didn’t know whether you’d even want to listen because this is, like, the scariest thing I’ve seen, seeing someone I lo…” He cuts himself off, hand coming up to cover his mouth. Louis takes a deep breath and pretends he didn’t hear, because Zayn clearly isn’t ready to say it out loud yet. “I don’t know what to do,” he says after a short pause. “I should probably go and check on him.”

“How… how long has this been going on for, Zayn?” Harry asks. Zayn shrugs again.

“Three weeks, maybe a month,” he replies. “Long enough for me to be worried.”

“I’m a bit confused,” Louis says, kissing the top of Zayn’s head before he goes back to his seat. “So, this has been happening a while?” Zayn hums a vague noise of affirmation. “So this is, like, viable proof. If you took him into the Ministry and, oh, I don’t know, got him to take Veritaserum…”

“Fuck, no,” Zayn says loudly. “That’s not happening, Lou, hell fucking _no_.” He looks around wildly. “Can we not have this conversation where he could hear?”

Louis nods. “Yeah, yeah, course. Go find him, yeah? And… tell him me and Haz are sorry for over-reacting, yeah?”

Zayn nods tightly and stands up, not bothering to tuck his chair under before he thunders up the stairs. Louis lets out a deep sigh and turns to Harry. “Jesus Christ.”

“I know,” Harry says lowly. “I’ve gone from liking him to not liking him to feeling so sorry for him in the space of an hour.”

“God, I know,” Louis laments, resting his head against Harry’s shoulder. “That was fucking horrible to watch. He looked so _sad._ ”

“He did,” Harry agrees. “Oh, Merlin. What do you reckon Zayn’s gonna tell him?”

“Literally no idea,” Louis admits. “How do you even explain that?” He sighs again. “How long has that bloody idiot been carrying this on his scrawny little shoulders, eh?”

“Too long, by the sounds of things,” Harry sighs, and winds an arm around Louis’s shoulders. “I feel awful for shouting now.”

“Me too,” Louis says. “I wish he’d _told_ me though. If he’d told me about this then I would’ve believed him in a heartbeat.”

“It’s probably better that you saw it first-hand though,” Harry says quietly. “Not… you know, because it definitely gave you a solid idea in your mind. Like, nobody is that good an actor. And as I said, you’re not exactly the easiest to convince.”

Louis groans. “No, you’re right,” he says frustratedly. “I hate this, Haz. I’ve not seen Zayn look that said since his grandad died a couple of years back, I mean. _Shit._ ”

“This is pretty horrible,” Harry agrees. He nudges his nose against the side of Louis’s head and kisses his temple. “Here, help me clear the plates and we’ll get the dessert served. Then hopefully we can try and salvage this, show Liam we aren’t mad, you know?”

“Yeah,” Louis agrees, moving his head to give Harry a proper kiss. “Good plan.” The two of them stand up and carry the plates into the kitchen, and while Harry scrapes them clean and Bewitches the sink to wash them up for them, Louis cleans the table and then goes to the fridge to grab the tiramisu.

Harry hands him a strawberry muffin as he comes back in for bowls and spoons, then takes one for himself. “Just something to keep us going,” he smiles, and Louis lets out a little squeal and takes a loud bite. “ _Honestly_. Do you love me or my baked goods more?”

“Just these strawberry muffins,” Louis hums, patting Harry’s hip. “Here, shall we go wait through there?”

Harry nods and peels back the paper at the bottom of his muffin, taking a bite that’s a lot more dignified than Louis’s. They go back to their table and finish their muffins, then Louis pulls Harry into a long, comforting hug as they wait for Liam and Zayn to come back down.

*

“Babe?” Zayn says hoarsely, knocking on Harry and Louis’s bathroom door gently. “Babe, it’s me, let me in.”

He counts to forty-eight seconds before the door creaks open, Liam’s dejected little face appearing shyly. Zayn lets out an involuntary whimper and gently shoulders the door open, cupping Liam’s face in his hands. Liam’s body goes tight, like he wants to flinch away, but Zayn does not let him.

“What’s happening to me?” he whispers, wrapping his hands around Zayn’s wrists and clinging. “I can’t… why can’t I just remember, Zayn? What’s happening to me?”

“I… I don’t know, babe,” Zayn replies, squeezing his eyes closed so Liam can’t see the guilt in them. “I wish I knew.”

“Am I sick?” Liam wonders, shaking his head. “Am I going to get worse?”

“No,” Zayn says fiercely. “No, you’re not. We’re gonna fix this, babe, I promise. I’ll… hey, I’ll talk to Harry a bit…” Liam whimpers and shakes his head, but Zayn shushes him ever so gently, “hey, no, he’s a Healer. He’ll have more of an idea of how to sort this than I will.”

“But he hates me,” says Liam in a small voice. “I nearly killed his fiancé and I can’t even remember.”

“They don’t hate you,” Zayn says fiercely. “I explained that it’s not your fault and they both understand. I don’t… they’re not hateful people, they’re my best friends and they understand. They want you to be okay.”

“I’m sorry I ruined dinner,” Liam says. He sounds like he might cry. “I’m sorry I’m so bad at this, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Bad at what?” Zayn asks, eyes racking over his face, trying to get his eye contact back. “Babe, listen to me. I don’t know what’s going on but I… I’m not going to let you beat yourself up about it. Here, do you want me to go and talk to Harry first about it? Ask him what he thinks it could be, or…?”

“I don’t want to ruin dinner any more than I already have,” Liam says. “Can we just… can we talk about something else? And I’ll make an appointment at St. Mungo’s next week or something.”

Zayn squeezes his face gently and nods, ducking forward to kiss him. It’s soft and careful, like they’re both scared the other could break, or even break down, if it escalated, but when they pull apart Liam does at least offer him a smile.

“Hey,” Zayn says, stretching up on tiptoes to kiss him on the forehead. “I care about you so much, you know?” Liam hesitates but nods. “I’m gonna make sure you’re okay, okay?”

If that sounds a weird promise for him to make, Liam doesn’t comment. Instead, he just snuffles a little then nods.

“Yeah,” he says eventually. “Yeah, I know you will.”

Zayn smiles at that, and kisses him again. He’s not ready to say it out loud yet, he’s really not – his head is still a bit too all over the place – but he knows he’s nearly there. Now just isn’t the time or the place.

“Come on,” he encourages, tilting his head towards the door. “Let’s go and pretend nothing happened. Although, if you don’t mind, I will just have a quick word with Harry. Just so we can get a bit of a head’s up, you know?”

“Yeah,” Liam says again. “I… I really like your friends, Zayn. And even if I can’t remember, you should know I would never, ever hurt Louis intentionally. You know that?”

Zayn wants to _cry_ at the pure, utter sincerity in his voice. “Of course I do,” he says, smiling but it probably comes out as more of a grimace. “You wouldn’t hurt a fly, would you?” He snorts and pinches Liam’s cheek. “My beautiful little pacifist.”

“Gerrof,” Liam pouts, but a grin spreads across his face and he sticks out his tongue. Zayn grins and presses their lips together again, and it’s meant to be comforting and familiar but Liam presses against him harder, licking into his mouth fervent and firm. It sends Zayn a little breathless and he grips Liam’s forearms tightly until he has to pull back for air, where he sucks in a welcome breath and laughs.

“Thanks for that,” he smirks, but Liam isn’t laughing anymore.

“Please don’t break up with me,” he blurts. Zayn’s mouth drops open.

“What?” he says disbelievingly. “Why would you say that? Of _course_ I’m not going to, Liam. I… I mean, of course not, no _way._ ”

“You swear?” Liam says, voice small like a child’s. Zayn shakes his head frantically. “It’s just… this feels, like, oh, I dunno, I’m not a burden to you or anything, am I?”

“Liam, don’t you dare ever think that,” Zayn says sharply. “You’re not a burden, or fucked up, or anything you might be thinking. Let me… let me talk to Harry, yeah?”

Liam nods tersely and Zayn slides his hand into his, gently coaxing him towards the door. They have to drop hands to come down the stairs, but that’s fine. Once they’re downstairs, they turn back into the dining room to see Harry and Louis waiting still at the table, only now Harry’s perched in Louis’s lap, humming happily as Louis feeds him small, broken off pieces of cake. It’s a horribly domestic sight, and it makes Zayn’s chest tighten a bit.

It’s not even a grand gesture, and Zayn’s been around for years and seen them do much worse, yet it’s the simplicity of it that hurts. Both of them smile and say hi as the other two reappear, but Harry makes no move to get off of Louis’s lap, nor does Louis make a move to shift him. It’s beautiful, really, how comfortable the pair are around each other, and it’s daft and maybe a bit silly to overthink, but Zayn would absolutely love to have that one day, and to have it with Liam would be the icing on the cake.

(He imagines having a dinner party at Liam’s flat – _their_ flat – inviting round Harry and Louis and Niall and Jade and Perrie and sliding into Liam’s lap after the desserts are served to do the same. He imagines flipping everyone off as they groan and catcall, and he imagines Liam pressing his red little face into Zayn’s shoulder, groaning in an embarrassed way but not making any effort to make Zayn stand. It’s a thought he squashes down quickly.)

“Hey, guys,” he says quietly. “Sorry we ran out like that.”

“No worries, mate,” Louis says, offering Liam a smile in return. “It happens to the best of us, forgetting this and that, you know?”

“No hard feelings, yeah?” Harry says, ruffling Louis’s hair before he stands up. “Sorry I shouted like that.”

“I… yeah, it’s fine,” Liam says, not letting up his doubled handed grip on Zayn’s hand. “I’m sorry I, you know, forgot.”

“Let’s move on,” Harry smiles, cocking his head towards the kitchen. “Wine and tiramisu, anyone?”

Zayn can’t help but beam. “I love you very much, Harry Styles.”

“Anything for you, Zayny,” Harry giggles. “Lou, wanna come give me a hand in the kitchen?”

“Actually,” Zayn says, holding up his hand so Louis doesn’t stand up, “I’ll help. Wanna make sure I get the biggest piece.” He hears Liam’s breath hitch next to him, so he draws his hands up to his mouth and brushes a kiss over his knuckles. “That alright, Haz?”

“Like I’d dare give anyone else the biggest piece,” Harry scoffs with a smirk. “Come on then.”

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Zayn tells Liam, bouncing up to press a kiss onto his cheek. “Be nice, you two.”

He follows Harry into the kitchen and leans against the counter, watching as Harry goes to the fridge and pulls out a huge dish of tiramisu. “I get the feeling you want more than just tiramisu,” Harry says after a quiet minute, turning to Zayn with raised brows. Zayn nods and presses his lips together.

“Haz,” he says lowly, “I need your Healer brain.”

Harry’s brows shoot up even higher. He busies himself with cutting through the tiramisu, and then says, “alright, but I must warn you, I have had some wine. Will you get the cream out the fridge?”

Zayn does as he’s told, carefully turning his head towards the door to check on Liam and Louis, but from what he can see the pair are just chatting away. So he goes back to the other side of the kitchen and setting the cream on the counter. “It’s about Liam. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Harry echoes. “What’s up?”

“I need a medical lie,” Zayn explains. “Or at least a lie that sounds convincing because it’s from you, a Healer.”

“About his memory loss?” Harry questions. Zayn nods. “That’s a big ask, Zayn. You’re not telling him the truth?”

Zayn shakes his head. “Too risky. I’d need to talk to Harry Potter first, but I… I don’t want to do that for a while, I don’t think.”

“Why not?”

“I just don’t,” Zayn says sharply, a tad too defensive. “Come on, Haz, just… I need your help.”

“Alright, alright,” Harry says, hands held up in defence. “Um, well. Let me have a think.” He taps his foot against the floor a few times and purses his lips in thought. “Oh, here’s a thought. Do you know much about the chemicals or potions he’s using with the Mandrakes?”

Zayn shakes his head. “No, but I want to keep it vague for now, yeah? So I could ask him for a list or something and I could run it by you and you could tell me about their side effects?”

Harry offers a vague shrug. “Yeah, alright. But, um, what if he goes to, like, his boss or something? Asks to be moved because it’s affecting his memory.”

“He won’t,” Zayn assures. “He’s too close to this breakthrough, and it’s _his_ breakthrough. I’ll sort it, I will. Cheers, Haz, you’re a proper pal, you are.”

Harry beckons him over, and Zayn goes easily, folding himself into his friend’s familiar embrace. Harry presses a kiss onto his forehead and holds him for a long time. “You need to take a fucking breather,” he tells Zayn. “You’re wound too tight, babes. I know you’ve got a lot to be stressed about, but you’re handling it so fucking well and you’re gonna be alright. You both will.”

Zayn takes a deep, gulping breath. “Yeah,” he grunts eventually. “Yeah, I know.”

“Come on, just eat my tiramisu and that’ll calm you right down,” Harry says with a grin. “There’s plenty more where this came from. Then there’s strawberry muffins for afters.”

Zayn snorts. “Trying to distract us with food?”

Harry shrugs, unembarrassed. “It’s worked for literally everyone else.” He picks up two bowls of tiramisu and snorts. “Except Lou. I have another way of distracting him.”

“I don’t wanna know,” Zayn says dryly, grimacing. “Want a hand?”

“Please,” Harry says, and precariously picks up the jug of cream to carry it through. Zayn follows, a bowl in each hand, and sets them down in front of Louis and Liam, who are chatting away easily with smiles on both their faces.

“Look at this,” Harry beams. “Fast friends, these two.”

Louis rolls his eyes.  “Shut it,” he says, digging straight into his dessert without being prompted. “Li here and I were just talking about our favourite Quidditch teams. Not often I meet another Yorkshire supporter. I’m bloody _sick_ of listening to Niall bang on about the fuckin’ Kenmare Kestrels. They’re _shite._ At least your boy here appreciates top notch Quidditch.”

Zayn beams and rubs Liam’s shoulder. “I should have known that you two would have hit it off over bloody Quidditch of all things.”

Louis tuts. “Can you believe I’m marrying someone who’s a Chudley Cannons fan?” he asks Liam, and Liam laughs and covers his mouth. “If he wasn’t so good at cooking it’d be grounds for divorce.”

“Shut up,” Harry whines, “or I’ll ration those strawberry muffins.”

“I love you,” Louis says, very seriously. Harry rolls his eyes.

“At least he follows it though, I guess,” Liam says. “I don’t think Zayn could give less of a shit.”

Zayn shrugs. “I gave a shit when my friends were playing it at school but now I don’t. Too much effort.”

Louis sighs loudly. “You’re a knob, but whatever.” He turns back to Liam. “Hey, the World Cup is next year. If you two are still together we should go as a group.”

Liam’s smile is blinding and Zayn almost melts. “Seriously?”

Louis nods. “Yeah, course. You, me, Haz, Zayny, Niall, Jake, Stan, maybe a couple of the girls. It’ll be sick.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m definitely keen,” Liam says happily. “Just remind me close to the time because evidently I’m having some memory trouble.”

Louis laughs loudly at that, nearly spewing chocolate and cream all over the table. Harry has to thump him on the back. “Good lad,” he splutters.

Despite everything, Zayn can’t help but grin at the scene, his best mate and boyfriend finally getting on like a house on fire after months and months of tension. From then on, conversation is light and flowing, and by the end of the night Louis is suitably tipsy and shouting about how suited the pair are for each other. It’s a bit embarrassing, but Zayn can barely keep the smile off his face.

They’re going to be okay, somehow.

*

The next death is almost a surprise to them all. It happens long enough after the last one for Zayn to hold a vague hope that the killing streak was over and they could focus on catching the culprit instead. He hears about it through the Daily Prophet that morning before he even gets into work, stomach dropping as he grabs it on his hurry to work. Another young bloke, apparently, this time one Ellis Dagworth-Jones of Leytonstone in London, which is terrifyingly only a few Tube stops away from Zayn’s own London flat. He left behind a partner, but no children. Although that doesn’t fit in with their previous assumptions, the death nonetheless leaves Zayn feeling uneasy and nervous.

That’s now the fifth death since the start of January, and the entire office is earie and a bit panicked when Zayn steps inside. Harry Potter and Ron are nowhere to be seen and Louis is inevitably running late, so he takes a seat at the big table in the centre and picks at his takeaway breakfast muffin with Jade, Leigh-Anne and Stan.

“I hate this feeling,” Leigh-Anne mumbles as she blows steam off her mug of tea. “Like, I know we can’t be expected to stop it easily, you know? But it’s our job to catch whoever is doing this, and we just haven’t.” Stan covers her hand with his and she squeezes it gratefully. “Christ, urgh, sorry. I think we’re doing a great job, all of us, I’m just…”

“I know,” Zayn says sympathetically, slumping back into his chair and picking a blueberry out of the cake. “I feel the same. I feel like I should almost feel responsible, even though it has nothing really to do with me.”

“Inevitably there’s going to a shit show as well,” Stan mutters. “The Prophet will be all over this because it happened in a Muggle shop, so there were loads of witnesses and yet we’re still none the wiser. We’re hardly any closer to finding out who did it either.”

“That’s not true, we have leads,” Zayn insists. “We know they’re not tackling just anyone and we know that they’re using Liam as a pawn.”

“Maybe we need to really do some more digging into your Liam then,” Stan suggests. “Like, if you’re willing to vouch one hundred percent that the lad is innocent then perhaps you should ask to meet, like, his family and friends and stuff – see if any of them have a motive.”

“He did say at the pub that one time his dad holds quite an outdated view of Muggleborns,” Leigh-Anne chips in. “Could it be a family conspiracy? And they’re using Liam’s Ministry connections.”

Zayn feels his cheeks burn with second hand humiliation for his boyfriend. “I don’t… that’s quite an accusation, you guys. I’ve not even met his family yet, Godric.”

“I know, and obviously I’m not saying that’s what’s happening but as you said, he’s one of the strongest connections we’ve got,” Leigh-Anne says gently. “I don’t know if Potter or Cowell would tell you anything different either.”

“What makes you so sure that Liam isn’t the killer, pet?” Jade asks him. “I didn’t think we’d ruled it out completely.”

Zayn swallows nervously. “I… I have this horrible theory about how they’re using him, and it’s not been confirmed to me yet but there’s… there have been instances where I’m pretty sure he’s been Cursed then comes to meet me.”

“Like what?”

He toys awkwardly with one of his rings for a second before he says, “I’m pretty sure he’s having his memory wiped regularly, you know. I wasn’t sure because the first time he forgot something pretty big I thought it was an accident, but now it’s, like, almost daily he forgets something important.”

The other three gape at him. “What?” Stan says after a couple of moments. “How can you tell?”

“Okay, so, there was a time when he said he was really looking forward to me staying over for the first time,” Zayn says, cheeks flaming, “but I’ve stopped over, like, tonnes of times by now. Several times a week if I’m being honest.” The other three coo delightedly and he flips them off with an eye roll.  “And when I said that to him he was like ‘oh, oh yeah, of course you have’, but he genuinely didn’t think I had.” He pauses. “I stopped overnight for the first time right after that night at the pub. You know, after Harry’s birthday?”

Jade blushes and turns away, which almost makes Zayn smile. Leigh-Anne, on the other hand, raises her eyebrows. “Of course we remember. Don’t think many of us are going to forget that night, babe. But really?”

“Yeah, so we’re talking nearly two and a half months ago,” Zayn says, chewing his nail down until it starts to bleed. “The look of shock on his face was just…” He trails off, too _sad_ to say much else. “It made me feel sick, like…”

“Babe,” Leigh-Anne breathes, jumping up from her seat and going over to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and squeezing comfortingly. “That’s… that’s not good, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” agrees Zayn in a small voice. “And, like, it’s happening more and more. He forgot I had sisters, he forgot _his_ sister has just had a baby, he forgets what I like to eat and stuff when I go round, stuff he’s not had any kind of a problem with before.” He sighs, squeezing Leigh-Anne’s hand gratefully under his. “At the start he was like ‘oh, I bought lots of chicken because I know you can’t eat pork’ or ‘hey, how’s your sister doing at her new job?’ And now I get ‘oh, you never mentioned you couldn’t eat pork’ with this adorable little fascination and I’m just standing there, like, trying not to let my face show how worried I am but I don’t know how long I can keep pretending.”

There’s a tense silence for a few moments in which he just stays wrapped up in Leigh-Anne’s arms, and she thankfully makes no move to let go.

“So, what, you think that whoever is responsible is Cursing him into getting him ingredients or spilling secrets or something, then wiping his memory afterwards?” Jade asks carefully.

“That’s exactly what I think,” Zayn replies, nodding. “And I don’t think it happened a lot when we were first together, but now we’ve settled a bit and we have a bit more of a routine I think the killer has gotten wily to it and goes for him when he knows I’m not around.”

“You need to talk to Potter,” Stan says after a pause. “I mean, I know you’ve been putting it off, but this is important. This is, like, viable proof that the kid’s innocent.”

Zayn hesitates. “I… I know I should,” he says eventually, “but I’m worried.”

“Why, babe?” Leigh-Anne asks.

Zayn swallows and wonders if there’s any point in still denying that he’s falling in love with Liam.

“I…” he starts, scratching at the nibbled skin around his thumb, “I… um…”

Leigh-Anne squeezes him a little tighter. “If it helps, babe, you’re a terrible actor.”

“What?” Zayn splutters, twisting in her arms so she breaks away and all he can do is fishmouth at her, baffled. “What do you mean by that?” Leigh-Anne winces and slowly walks back to her seat, so Zayn turns to face the rest of the table. Jade won’t look at him, neither will Stan. “Guys?”

“We just… we kinda figured…” Jade says slowly, suddenly looking very interested in her picked-apart muffin, “that, like, the way you are with him, and the amount of time you spend together and stuff, you know, you’re…”

“Oh.”

“We just want you to be careful, bro,” Stan says kindly. “Like, I get you love him or whatever, but this is a fucking huge investigation and we’re all worried that this could jeopardise it.”

“I don’t…” Zayn croaks, “we’re not in love.”

The raised eyebrows around the table make it pretty clear they don’t believe him, but that’s the least of Zayn’s worries right now.  “So, like, why haven’t you told Potter?”

“Not our place,” Stan shrugs, as if _that’s_ the issue here. “Look, Zayn, you’ve just told us you have a decent amount of proof to argue his complete innocence. I mean, can anyone else vouch for it?”

“Um, Louis could,” Zayn says, grimacing at how contrived that would probably look. “Harry, too. And Niall.”

“Would Liam himself be able to, like, profess to it under Veritaserum or something?” Jade questions.

“Yeah, but then he’d know we’re – _I’m –_ lying to him,” Zayn argues. “Plus then he’s involved. That would put him in further danger with whoever is fucking with his head, and I’m not doing that to him. Nuh uh.”

“Okay, that’s a point,” Stan admits. He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Fuck, man, this is some heavy shit.”

“That was a lot of foul language for so early in the morning, Mr. Lucas,” Harry Potter’s voice says from behind them, and the four scrabble to turn in their seats. Zayn feels physically sick with the thought that he could have heard, but he doesn’t show any signs of it as he continues to greet them. “How are we all?”

“Fine,” Zayn croaks, grateful that the rest of them jump in with louder responses. He’s never been more grateful for his team, his _friends._

“Where’s Louis?” Harry asks. “And Cher? And Ron, for that matter.”

“Cher’s down at the Daily Prophet to check over the article they wanna publish on the latest death,” Jade explains. “Simon’s gone with her, they got in just after I did and went down super early.”

Harry nods. “Zayn, where’s Louis?”

“No idea,” Zayn answers truthfully. “He usually sends me a Patronus if he’s running really late. Do you want me to Conjure one up and send it to him?”

Harry makes a noise of affirmation before he wanders over to his own desk, unzipping his jacket as he goes. Zayn rifles for his wand and pulls it out, and he’s just about to Conjure his Patronus up when Louis suddenly bursts through the door, hair all over the place, bright red and panting.

“I am _so_ sorry,” he wheezes, hands on his knees as he tries to get his breath back. Zayn can’t help but laugh with the rest of the group. “So sorry.”

“Merlin’s left bollock, what happened to you?” Harry Potter asks incredulously.

“My _fucking_ fiancé,” Louis snarls, “managed to somehow Transfigure our cat into half cat, half Great Dane.” The look on his face is so disgusted, so thunderous, that Zayn cackles even louder. “I’ve been chasing this fucking creature around my garden all fucking morning, fucking praying our fucking Muggle neighbours didn’t fucking see.”

The howl of laughter that reverberates through their little office is practically deafening, and the situation is made infinitely funnier by the fact that Louis looks ready to murder each and every one of them. Zayn has tears pouring down his face, the image of Louis chasing this poor cat around the garden. It ricochets around the little room until Ron appears in the doorway, looking absolutely furious. “What the bloody hell is going on in here?” he shouts. “Have you lot forgotten we’ve had a death that needs to be fucking dealt with?”

Zayn’s mouth snaps shut, as does everyone else’s, and even Harry Potter looks a little taken aback. Ron’s eyes are wide – _wild,_ almost – and he smacks the side of his fist into the doorframe. “Ron,” Harry starts to say, but he’s cut off.

“Why the _fuck_ have the lot of you just been in here gossiping when there was another death literally this morning?” he barks. “Did none of you idiots think to come and look for me? Did none of you think we might have a little bit more work to do today than for you to piss about complaining about how little we have to do?”

Zayn’s gone cold, body frozen in place as his mind runs over all the other things Ron could have heard. Harry, luckily, steps in. “Ron, what’s gotten into you? Why are you shouting?”

“Because I’m bloody sick of getting nowhere with this case,” Ron says bluntly. “And now the killer’s made it personal.”

Zayn lets out a loud gasp, as does the rest of the room. Harry’s eyes are wide and he moves forward, hand outstretched, but Ron steps out of his way. “Ron, mate, what’s…?”

“Ellis Dagworth-Jones,” Ron says loudly, his voice trembling ever so slightly, “was Hermione’s cousin. Not, like, a first cousin, and if I’m honest I can’t remember the exact relationship, but she always called him a cousin, you know? She only found him a year or so ago. He went to Hogwarts too, a few years behind us, but they’re related _through_ magic. That was _so_ important to her, and now…” He cuts himself off and fists a hand in the front of his hair, tugging angrily. “Fuck this killer, honestly. You should have seen her face when I…”

“Ron,” Harry says slowly, bringing both hands up to cover his mouth. “Ron, mate, I had no idea.”

“Yeah, well, it’s done now,” Ron spits. “He’s gone and Mione’s never going to see him again.”

“So now he’s targeting us,” Louis says from somewhere behind them. “He’s hurting the Muggleborn companions of those investigating him and he’s making it personal.”

“That’s what it looks like, isn’t it?” Ron snaps. “Fucking hell, I just fucking can’t, Harry, I can’t stop seeing her poor face when I told her.”

“Let’s get you some tea,” Harry says, hand now firm on Ron’s back as he guides him into the back room. He turns to glare at the five of them. “Right, you lot, get to work. I need background checks, family histories, case details, poison details, _anything_ you can get your hands on. We need to stop dicking around now, alright?”

“Yes, sir,” the group mumbles, then disperses around the room quickly, grabbing books, quills, parchment and the necessary folders before bringing them back round the big table. The door that leads into the back area slams shut, which makes Zayn flinch, and when he drops back into his chair the rest of the group let out the sigh he thought only he was holding in.

“Fuck _me_.” Stan is the first to speak, shaking his head in disbelief. “This is some fucking case, ain’t it?”

“I can’t believe they came for someone that they knew would hurt Ron,” Leigh-Anne says, shaking her head and sounding devastated. Stan winds an arm around her shoulder and squeezes. There’s a pause, and then she says, “do you think the rest of us are in danger then?” Her breath intakes sharply. “Am _I_ in danger?”

“No,” Jade and Louis both say at the same time, Jade firm and Louis sharp.

“We’re not gonna let anything happen to you,” Stan says firmly. “Or you, Lou. Or _any_ of us. I mean, we were all purposefully really selective on who we told we were in the time, right? So maybe… maybe the killer just assumed, you know, tackling a connection that they knew would get to the Ministry regardless.”

“Whoever they are, we can’t deny that they’re terrifying clever,” Jade adds. “Bloody hell, I really hope we get them soon. I’m sick of feeling terrified every day I come into work.”

“Tell me about it,” Zayn says, lips pressed together. “I know this may seem irrelevant now, but I know it wasn’t Liam that did it. He was with me all last night and we Floo’d into work together, I swear.”

“How did this Ellis guy die?” Louis asks. “Is there a file in the pigeonhole or something?”

Jade stands up and wanders to check, and sure enough there are six folders neatly stacked inside. He pulls them out and then hands one to each of them, setting Cher’s copy onto Harry’s desk. As per usual, the photo is pinned to the front, the bloke donning the same sad smile that Zayn has sadly become accustomed to seeing. He opens it quickly, flicking over to the first page, eyes going straight to the familiar box drawn at the top with the cause of death written in it in Harry’s neat scrawl.

“Holy shit,” he whispers. “Oh no, oh fuck. He’s… oh, _Liam._ ”

“Huh?” Stan says, opening up his own file before his eyes go wide. “Oh, holy fuck.”

“Cause of death: overdose on Herbicide Potion,” Leigh-Anne reads aloud before her hand goes up to cover her mouth. “Zayn…”

“No,” Zayn says, shaking his head vigorously. “No, no, _no…_ ”

“Zayn, breathe,” Louis instructs loudly, hopping out of his seat and hurrying over to him. “It’s okay, babe, it’s… we believe you, don’t we, guys?”

“You might, but they won’t,” Zayn says miserably, head in his hands. “They won’t, this is… this is so close to him, this is _easily_ linked to him.”

“I know, I know, but you’ve gotta take a second and breathe, love,” Louis says. “We’ll sort it, yeah? We’ll… oh, fuck it, I dunno, but we won’t let anything happen to him. We won’t let them take him, or arrest him, or anything.”

“But what can we do, Lou?” Zayn practically wails. “What authority do we really have?”

“Not much, but enough,” Jade says firmly. “It’s going to be okay, Zayn, we promise.”

“Right, let’s just dive straight into it then,” Louis instructs, squeezing Zayn’s shoulders before he stands up straight and points to the book in the middle. “Stan, Leigh, can you two do a lot more research into the ingredients and origins of this Herbicide Potion? Find out what ingredients are in it and stuff, work out how much the poor bloke would have had to consume to have died from it. Jade, can you have a look into his family history and his possible connection to Hermione Weasley? See if that runs any deeper. Zayn, you and me will look into the death itself and the details surrounding it. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Zayn mumbles, as everyone else hums their agreement. His heart is still pounding against his ribcage and he’s shaking, so he just lets Louis guide him by the shoulders out of his chair and over towards their usual desk in the corner. Once they’re sat and Louis’s wandered off and returned again, this time with the case report, he grabs Zayn’s hand on top of the table and laces their fingers.

“Zayn, look at me, babe,” he says softly. “Hey, look. I promise, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Zayn replies unhappily, and doesn’t let go.

*

At the end of the day, Zayn migrates towards Liam’s flat slowly and miserably. He lets himself in with the key Liam hides with a Concealment Charm on the top of his doorframe and makes himself a coffee, settling in on Liam’s sofa and dozing a little until Liam comes home a bit later.

“Hiya,” he says brightly, hand warm against Zayn’s cheek as he coaxes him awake slowly. “You okay, babe?”

Despite his bones being sleep-heavy and his eyes not being quite focused yet, Zayn still manages to shake his head. He makes grabby hands for Liam and pulls him down carefully, just letting himself be held. Liam looks worried, brows furrowed and concern sparkling in his deep, brown eyes, but Zayn doesn’t let him speak. He wraps his arms around Liam’s neck and clings to him, burying his face in his chest and taking long inhales of the smell he’s come to associate with safety and home.

“Zayn, what’s the matter?” Liam asks, a hand firm on the back of Zayn’s neck.

“Shit day at work,” Zayn ends up mumbling back. It’s a shit response, but he doesn’t have the energy to conjure up a more convincing lie. “Wanted to come find you in the day but I had to stay in the office.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Liam asks gently, but Zayn shakes his head no straight away.

“Just… just hold me, yeah?” he says, and Liam hums his agreement, pressing a long kiss into the side of Zayn’s head.

He doesn’t press, and Zayn’s grateful. He’s content just to lie there in Liam’s hold, blinking back tears and trying to push thoughts from his head about how difficult this is going to be to say goodbye to when it inevitably ends.

The thing that’s worrying him is that it could literally end tomorrow for all he knows. So he intends to cling to Liam for as long as possible, and maybe even a little longer after that.

*

Louis slams the heavy book in front of him closed, glaring at it like the damn thing personally offended him. It did, really, by not supplying him with any decent answers of how the killer managed to sneak such a large quantity of Herbicide Potion into Ellis’s morning bacon roll without him tasting anything, nor how he managed to get Ellis to consume that particular one in the first place.

Louis sighs, groaning. It’s getting to the point where he’s ready to crack, because it feels like what the group is lacking is a readiness to accept home truths. The truth of the matter is it could be as simple as the killer Cursing Ellis and forcing him to consume the poison, but no, Harry Potter insists they pussyfoot around this. So Louis has spent his entire morning scanning through book after heavy book, reading the tiniest of texts until his eyes hurt.

And he still hasn’t gotten anywhere. In fact, all they’ve really worked out after a week of constantly going over the same facts and details again and again is that Zayn is dangerously paranoid and Ron is getting angrier by the day. The office has become quite a tough place to be as a result.

He sighs and leans back in his chair, surveying the office around him. Zayn’s sat over with Ron, Stan and Leigh-Anne, going over notes on something or other, something they’ve probably gone over a hundred times before. They’ll still hit a dead end, Louis knows. Cher and Jade are out, probably talking to a victim’s family _again._ It’s tiring and they keep coming up short, and it’s starting to generate an air of panic within the team. They need a new lead, and they need one soon.

Public panic is getting worse too. It was only the Monday before that the Prophet ran a headline possibly calling for a curfew and advising Muggleborns to Bewitch their doors locked from the inside. Luckily for Louis, that’s something Harry would always do anyway, so he felt less bad about wanting to do it. But he’s not stupid – this killer is smart, whoever they are, and they must know they’re being sought out right now, hence Ellis’s murder in the first place. And despite him being the Muggleborn in the friendship, Louis is definitely more worried for Zayn here. He’s always been a bit of a martyr and he’s worried that it’s going to come back and bite him if he stays this protective over Liam.

In short, Louis is exhausted, worried, and bored out of his nut. “I’m going for a long lunch,” he calls, hopping out of his chair and pushing it neatly under the table. “I’ll see you all in sixty, yeah?”

“Where are you going?” Zayn calls over.

“I’m gonna go have lunch with Harry,” Louis says, shrugging on his denim jacket. “It’s, um, it’s a certain anniversary of ours so I said I’d Floo over to eat lunch with him in his canteen.”

He hopes the lie sounds smooth and not as forced as it feels. Really, he just wants a rant and a bit of a cuddle and some time out of this goddamn claustrophobic office. Everything feels like a bit of a battle and he just needs some time away, even if it’s only to see Harry.

Neither Ron nor Zayn, thankfully, bats an eyelid. “Have a goodun then,” Ron says with a wave of his hand. “Do remember that Harry could lose his job if you bum in the supply closet.”

Louis does laugh at that, because it really is nice to have Ron cracking jokes again. He waves at the room again before he disappears back out into the main corridor. He heads out of there and goes down the stairs towards the Ministry’s main Floo Network. He drops two Sickles into the pot on the side and helps himself to a handful of powder before he steps into an empty fireplace and calls out, “St. Mungo’s” as loud and as crisp as he can.

He tumbles out the fireplace as gracefully as possible at the other end, shaking down his jacket and tucking his hair back up before he trots through into the familiar tall reception area. It really is quite an impressive building, opening into a giant atrium where Perrie and a few others work bringing people in, then huge trailing corridors leading down to the wards.

Perrie’s working today, her blonde hair piled up in a bun not dissimilar to Harry’s, her smart white uniform bright under the stark lights. He wanders over, shooting her a friendly smile. Her face, however, pulls into a sad one.

“Hiya, love,” he greets. “Is Harry okay to come for lunch?”

“Did he call you?” Perrie answers instead, and Louis’s brows shoot up.

“No?”

Perrie sighs, leaning over the desk on her elbows. “Oh, that’s weird. Then why are you here?”

“To… to see my boyfriend,” Louis says slowly, really rather confused. “I wanted to get lunch with him. Is he around?”

Perrie sighs again. “He’s hiding in one of the cupboards.”

“He’s… he’s what?” Louis asks rather incredulously, his neck sticking out and back again like a concerned mother hen. “Is he alright?”

“He’s had better days,” Perrie says sadly. “Bless him, he made a bit of a mistake with a procedure and the ward manager sort of yelled at him a bit. So he’s hiding his lunch out in a cupboard.”

Louis’s eyes go wide. “Where is he then?”

Perrie stands back upright and cocks her head towards one of the doorways behind her. “Down here, come on.”

She takes his hand and guides him round the counter, then leads him down through the staff passageway to a room a few corridors away that Louis recognises as one of the staff rooms. He’s been there a few times for their Christmas parties. Next door to that is a big doorway labelled SUPPLIES, which Perrie knocks on softly

“Harry, babe?” she calls. “Are you still in here?”

Louis’s heart sinks a bit when he hears Harry moan back a weak, “yeah, Pez. Hi.” She gently twists the doorknob and presses her shoulder against it to open it a crack, peering in.

“Oh, little love,” she coos. “You’re alright, I know you are.” She opens it wider, tilting her head at Louis so he knows to step forward. “There’s someone here to see you, pet.”

Harry takes one look at Louis and bursts into tears.

“Harry,” Louis says gently, moving forward to wrap his arms around his shoulder. “Oh, love, baby love, what’s wrong?”

“You said you wouldn’t call him,” Harry bites out, but wraps himself up in Louis’s arms all the same. “You _said,_ Pez.”

“I didn’t call him,” Perrie says defensively, hands on hips. “He said you had a lunch date.”

Harry sniffs. “We did?”

“Well, not on paper,” Louis admits. “I wanted to see you though. I needed to get out the office, really.”

“Sure,” Harry nods, tugging Louis down so he’s perching in his lap, face buried in the fabric of Louis’s jacket. He sniffs again. “Sorry.”

“What are you sorry for, you daft git, eh?” Louis asks, shifting around a little so he can put his hand on Harry’s cheek and kiss his temple.

“Being rubbish,” Harry murmurs unhappily. “Being shit at my job. For now asking you if you’ll stay in this supply cupboard with me. I don’t much fancy heading down to the canteen, if I’m honest.”

“You’re not rubbish, Haz, don’t say things like that. And as for staying in the closet, that’s okay, honey, I’m sure Perrie’ll get us something,” Louis says, turning to look at her with a sweet smile. “Won’t you, Pez?”

Perrie rolls her eyes but nods. “Yes, hun, I will. What do you fancy?”

“Um,” Harry says eloquently, dabbing at his eyes with the bottom of his shirt, “tuna salad for me, tuna baguette for him?”

“And a portion of chips and a diet Coke!” Louis calls after her. Harry pouts. “To share,” he assures, squeezing his hand before sliding off his lap. He turns around and stands up over him, cupping both his cheeks in his hands before bending down to kiss him on the nose. “Hey, now, little love. Do you wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

“I’m a fucking idiot is what’s wrong,” Harry scowls, bottom lip jutting out. “I fucked up really bad and I deserved to get shouted at, probably even fired.”

“Wanna tell me what happened?” Louis says again, trailing the backs of his fingers down Harry’s soft cheek. “Babe?”

Harry groans, long and sad. “So I was doing rounds, yeah? Making sure everyone had their Potions and whatnot.” Louis nods. “And I went down to the kid’s ward, which is pretty empty at the moment. There were only a couple of kids in there, like, one lad whose little brother had got hold of their dad’s wand somehow and he’s got scales all over his body, and then this other little boy, right?” Louis nods again.

“So where did you go wrong?”

Harry looks down at his feet. “It was so messy, Lou, I’m so…” He cuts himself off and rubs his eye with the back of his hand, looking rather like a child being scolded. “I could have killed him.”

Louis’s eyes go wide and he takes a deep breath to stop himself from saying or doing something that’ll make Harry feel worse. Instead, he tries for a more careful approach. “And h-how did you nearly do that, Harry?”

Harry looks utterly defeated, fresh tears catching on his long lashes as he looks back up at Louis. “He’d just had his tonsils out, right, it wasn’t even a huge procedure or anything. But I didn’t know that there had been some complications and he wasn’t allowed any solids yet. He’s been on this potion that you just have once a day – tastes like roast beef, it’s quite nice – but yeah, it means you don’t have to eat solids and you still get the sustenance of three meals and stuff.”

Louis presses his lips together. “Did you feed him solids?”

“I just gave him a Bertie Bott’s,” Harry says, barely louder than a whisper. “Just one and he… he started to choke and I… I just fucking froze, Lou, he was going to have _died…_ ”

“He wouldn’t have died,” Perrie’s voice comes from behind them, bursting back into the cupboard with a trail of food floating behind her. Louis jumps perhaps more than he should. “He wouldn’t, babe.” She hands a steaming tray of chips over to Louis. “You had Carmen and Steve in the room with you, they remembered the spell.”

“What, so what happened?” Louis asks, still confused.

“He _choked,_ ” Harry wails, crossing his arms around himself protectively. “Nobody fucking stopped me.”

“Yeah, because they were too busy not letting the other littlun scratch off his fuckin’ scales,” Perrie drawls as she steals a chip. “They didn’t give you any kind of warning, to be fair.”

“I should have known though,” mutters Harry, still sounding furious with himself. “You always check the charts before you give anyone anything, Pez, that’s, like, rule number one.”

“Yeah, well, you fucked up a little,” Perrie admits, nudging closer so she can rub at the back of his neck comfortingly. Louis pops a chip into his mouth and chews contemplatively.

“Isn’t there an easy spell to stop someone choking though?” he asks. “Yeah, yeah there is. _Anapneo,_ isn’t it?”

“Well, I know that now,” Harry snaps, glaring up at Louis. Louis winces a bit at his tone. “But I wasn’t really thinking about magic when I was watching this six year old almost choke to death in front of me.”

“Hey, hey,” Louis says, setting the chips onto one of the shelves beside him. He wipes his greasy fingers on his trousers and takes Harry’s face in his hands. “There’s no need to take it out on me, Haz. It’s okay. It’s really okay. The boy is okay, and so are you.”

“But what if he hadn’t been?” Harry says miserably, bottom lip catching with every word. “He… he…”

“Oh, Harry,” Louis says sadly, and takes another awkward step forward, folding Harry easily into his arms and nosing at the top of his head. Harry clutches at the front of Louis’s top and weeps, and Louis turns to Perrie rather desperately. Perrie runs a hand through the front of her hair and groans, shrugging.

“Harry,” she coos, sort-of awkwardly joining the embrace from the side. “Harry, sweetheart, listen to me. The boy would _not have died._ Are you listening to me? He would not have died.”

“But…”

“You’re not the first Healer to forget a spell,” she tells him sternly. “Nor will you be the last. Steve has been here thirty odd years, he’ll have done it as some point, I promise you. But what can we learn from this?”

“Um…” Harry says, looking up at them, bottom lip still trembling.

“Louis, what was the spell again for Harry?”

“ _Anapneo,_ ” Louis says again, smiling softly as he catches a stray tear on his thumb. “Don’t you be forgetting it now. _Anapneo._ ”

“ _Anapneo,_ ” Harry echoes with a mumble. He sniffs some more before he sighs. “I did know that, I did.”

“And now you’ll always know it,” Louis says, tucking a couple of loose strands of hair back into Harry’s bun. “Consider this a lesson of sorts.”

Harry sighs again miserably. “I don’t want to have to go back out and face Steve.”

“You have to eventually,” Perrie says matter-of-factly. “Honestly, Haz, it’s gonna be fine. He couldn’t have died, and yeah, you messed up once but, like, remember when Carmen accidentally sewed that poor old lady’s fingers together? Or remember when Josh dropped all those vials of Antidotes and caused all those explosions?”

Harry does finally crack a smile at that. “Yeah, I remember,” he says. “Urgh, I just feel like such a tit.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I imagine your operation here is still running more smoothly than anything over in the Ministry,” Louis sighs. He reaches over and snags the chips back. “Honestly, I’m so pissed off and, like, bored with it all.”

“How can you be bored of a murder case?” Perrie asks incredulously. She steps back from Harry and goes over to the selection of still floating food, snagging a sausage roll. “Or are you not allowed to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Louis admits. “Oh, I dunno. I’m just… I feel like we aren’t going anywhere? And I just feel so drained with it the whole time, like, nobody has any real new leads and it just feels like we’re going around in circles.” He points a chip at her menacingly. “That does not leave this room though, do you understand?”

“Absolutely,” Perrie splutters through a mouthful of pastry. She takes a moment to swallow. “Could you, like, quit? If you’re not enjoying it?”

“I’m not quitting,” Louis says disbelievingly, staring at her like she’s just grown an extra head. “I can’t quit now. I need to find out who’s doing this so I can tear them a new one. If not for my own pride and curiosity then for Zayn and Liam.”

“Oh, god, yeah,” Harry agrees, standing up from his perch and reaching for his floating salad pot. “The other night was just awful, Pez, did I tell you about it?”

“A bit, yeah,” Perrie says, grimacing around her pastry. “God, bless them.” She moves over to Louis and presses a quick kiss into his cheek. “I’ll leave you two to it, yeah? But I’ll see you Friday, ‘kay?”

“Indeed,” Louis says. “See you later, babe.”

Perrie goes over to kiss Harry’s cheek, whispering something that Louis can’t quite hear as she hugs him goodbye before she shoots them both a wink and closes the door behind her. Louis sighs and plops down onto the little stool Harry had been sat on before.

“Chuck us me sandwich, will you?” he asks Harry, and Harry does before gracefully dropping to the floor, sitting cross legged in front of Louis while he munches on his salad. “Christ, we are a right pair, aren’t we?”

“A match made in heaven,” Harry replies. There’s a tiny drop of dressing on his lip that Louis wants to lick off. “Oh, Lou, is it that bad at the moment?”

“It’s not _bad,_ ” Louis says. He picks out a piece of cucumber from his sandwich and glares at it. “It’s just… how do I say something, Haz? We are truly just going around in circles and it’s not conducive to anything. I just want this to be sped up but, like, it’s been about a week since the last death and there’s another one coming. I can fucking feel it.”

“Then say something,” Harry says. “You’re a valued member of that team, Lou. It’s probably best to come from you than it all explode.”

“True,” Louis says, groaning. “Urgh, this fucking sucks. I miss my old job.”

“No, you don’t,” Harry says, a small smile playing on his lips. “You fucking love your job now. But I’m serious, say something.”

“I don’t want it to compromise Zayn’s feelings though,” Louis says. “I probably would have said something a couple of weeks ago where it not for the Liam thing.”

“I suppose,” Harry says, shuffling forward a bit so he can squeeze Louis’s knee. “Oh, it’s not easy. Maybe talk to Zayn?”

“I’ve tried,” Louis says glumly, setting his half eaten baguette on the floor and reaching back for the chips. “He thinks Liam will be taken away from him or something. Which I doubt, but…”

“Fuck,” Harry breathes, eyes wide. “Really? Could they do that?”

“I don’t know.” Louis shrugs, then scoops Harry’s hand in his and squeezes it, grateful for the comfort and companionship. “But that night has convinced me that Liam truly is a pawn. And if I can validate it for him then I don’t get why Zayn is so scared?”

“I guess it’s because you’re not just colleagues,” Harry hums. “The whole team knows how close you are, I’m guessing, and, oh, I don’t know, would it look like coercion?”

“Fuck knows,” Louis groans. “Maybe I’ll have another word with him tonight.”

“Sounds wise,” Harry says sagely. “And definitely say something when you get back to the office.” He pauses, then flips up his little pocket watch clipped to the front of his scrubs. “When do you have to be back?”

“In maybe twenty minutes?” Louis muses. “I took my long lunch today, and as I left they all made jokes about how not to take you into a supply closet.”

“What incredible irony,” Harry says dryly. He drops the little plastic fork into his empty salad box and closes it shut, then reaches for the end of Louis’s sandwich. “You done?”

“Yeah,” Louis says. “Wasn’t great, not gonna lie.”

“It never is from the caf,” Harry admits. “That’s why I prefer coming to you for lunch.”

Louis smiles and stands, pulling Harry up-standing with him. He takes a deep breath before wrapping his arms around Harry’s middle, cuddling into him like he would at home. “Missed you,” he mumbles, smirking as Harry hums and wriggles them closer. “Miss you all the damn time.”

“Sap,” Harry says, but Louis can feel his smile. “I don’t wanna work today, Lou, I wanna go home and go to bed.”

“Kinky.”

“You know what I mean,” Harry grumbles, but he’s definitely still grinning. “Tonight, yeah? Pizza and cuddles and maybe a hand job if I’ve not fallen asleep on you.”

“How very generous,” Louis drawls. “Urgh, I should probably get going.” He looks up and puckers his lips exaggeratedly. “Kissy kiss?”

Harry obliges, pressing a few soft, little pecks onto Louis’s pouting lips. It’s gentle and loving and warm, and Louis _really_ doesn’t want to go back to that fucking office.  “Love you,” he purrs instead, then breaks away reluctantly. “Honestly, Haz, I hate that I have to do this.”

“I know, babe, but sometimes you’ve just got to,” Harry says. “Like, you know I love Zayn to the ends of the earth, but people are dying, Lou. You’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do to put a stop to this, and if it means stepping on Zayn’s toes for a bit, like…”

“Yeah, but Haz, imagine if Zayn double-crossed me to get to you like that,” Louis says. “I would literally never forgive him, and that’s why I can’t do that to him.”

“Oh, Lou,” Harry says sadly. “Babe, I… I don’t know what to suggest otherwise.”

Louis sighs and shrugs. “Neither do I,” he tells him. “I guess I’ll… I’ll figure it out when I get back. And I’ll talk to Zayn when I can. But I’ve gotta say something today or else I’ll go mad. Or lose my nerve. One of the two.”

“You’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do,” Harry repeats sagely. “Love you too, by the way.” He lets out a long sigh. “Merlin, I wish I could just go home.”

“Don’t we all, sunshine,” Louis says. “I’ll see you later, yeah? Don’t you dare start cooking something if you’re home before me. I won’t allow it. It’s pizza tonight, alright?”

“Sounds perfect,” Harry nods. “See you tonight.”

With a final squeeze of his hand, Louis watches as Harry disappears down one of the long corridors and back towards his wards. He slowly wanders back towards the Floo network, feet heavy, and tosses some Sickles into the jar before helping himself to some Floo powder.

Once he’s back in the Ministry’s main building, he heads back to his department equally as unhurriedly. Nerves are racing through his bloodstream because he knows what he’s got to do, and it’s the last thing in the world he actually wants to, but he doesn’t see a way around it. The way he sees it, it’s not screwing Zayn over, or Liam for that matter, if he’s the one who offers up the proof. That way, Liam can stay in the dark about his current involvement and Zayn can keep quiet about how deep his relationship with Liam actually goes. It’s not a fool-proof plan by any means, but Louis knows he has to say _something._

Once he gets back to the office, it’s empty apart from Leigh-Anne and Stan, who are sharing a huge plate of chips as they glance over a case file. He wanders over to them and drops into the seat next to Stan, snatching up a chip by way of greeting.

“Hey,” Stan says vaguely. “How was lunch?”

“Bit of a mess,” Louis admits. “Found Harry hiding in the supply closet because he gave a kid a Bertie Botts and they nearly choked, bless him.”

Stan winces. “Poor lad. He okay now?”

“He’ll be fine,” Louis shrugs it off. “But anyway. I need to talk to you about something.”

Leigh-Anne looks up curiously. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah, I, um,” Louis starts, scratching nervously at the back of his neck, “I think we need to talk to Potter, right? And tell him that Liam is definitely innocent and that we can stop dicking around looking for his motives and stuff, and start being a little more, like, blunt with our searches.”

“What do you mean?” Stan asks, setting down his quill. “Like, you’re going to tell Potter straight up that Liam’s innocent?” Louis nods. “What’s your proof?”

“Well, obviously I don’t have any, like, physical proof, apart from his memory loss, I guess,” Louis explains. “I’ll testify for his innocence under Veritaserum, and Zayn could do the same.”

“Have you even asked Zayn about this?” Leigh-Anne asks. “Because this is a big ask to just spring on him.”

Louis groans. “No, I haven’t,” he confesses. “But I don’t know what else to do, you guys.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Like, I’ve spent the past week or so going over and over this bloody case notes trying to work out how the killer got Ellis to ingest all this poison, but if you look at the timeframe and the circumstances around it, the poor bloke could very easily have been Cursed, led away and forced to consume it without him knowing what he was doing,”

“Jesus fuck,” mutters Leigh-Anne. Louis sighs.

“Yeah, it’s fucking horrible to think about but a very real possibility,” he shrugs. “This guy is a killer, right? Whoever they are, I think manners have gone a bit out the window with him. I think where we’re going wrong is we’re over-thinking it too much.”

Stan groans. “I do think you have a point, Lou, I really do. But I’m just worried about Zayn here.”

“Me too,” Leigh-Anne chips in. “He needs to be the one with the say here, not you. It’s not your place to just jump in and take control of the Liam situation because that’s _his_ responsibility; has been from the bleedin’ start.”

There’s a pause, and then Louis moans out, “alright, fine. You’re both right. But other than that I’m going to talk to Potter and say this is what I’ve concluded and I believe it to be right.”

“What do you believe to be right?” Harry Potter’s voice says as he steps through the portrait and into the office, followed closely by Ron. “Did you have a good lunch, by the way?”

“Yeah, um, look,” Louis says, standing up and trotting over to his desk, collecting up the stack of parchment he’s been making notes on all week, “so obviously, I’ve been working on finding out how the killer got Ellis to ingest enough of the plant poison to kill him, right?” Harry nods.  “Well, given the evidence – or should I say, the lack of evidence  - we have, and also taking into account the research I’ve done into creating the potion, I’d say that it’s absolutely possible given the timeframe for the killer to have used the Imperius Curse on him and then forced him to consume it. The poor bloke probably had no idea what he was doing, then went about his day, bought a bacon butty, and then died halfway through eating it.”

“Fuck me,” says Harry weakly. “You’re sure about that?”

“I think given the amount that the autopsy showed to be in his stomach, coupled with how long he took to die, then yeah,” Louis nods. “There’s no way in hell that much poison could have been masked in a smallish bacon butty, nor would he have not noticed. The potion fucking stinks, I can’t imagine it tastes much better. He would have noticed it for sure.”

“So you’re saying…”

“I’m saying we need to stop looking into everything so deeply, if I’m being blunt,” Louis says, confidence suddenly surging through him now he’s started. “I think we’ve wasted a lot of time thinking this killer is clever. No, wait, I’m not saying they’re not clever because they clearly are. They’ve clearly put a lot of time and thought into their victims and they know how to manipulate people without letting themselves fall into danger.”

“But you also think that they’re a bit reckless and now they’ve started are going to continue on by any mean’s necessary,” Ron finishes. Louis nods.

“Something like that,” he affirms. “I think what I’m getting at mainly is that this person is going around _killing._ The deaths are calculated, yes, but there’s also a motive behind it. This killer does not like Muggleborns. As such, why would he let them die easily? It doesn’t surprise me to think that he can Curse someone on, say, a busy street in Muggle London, then lead them somewhere to force them to ingest a lot of poison. Am I horrified? Yes. Am I surprised? No.”

Harry Potter lets out a long sigh. “You’re right, you know. You’re absolutely right, and we probably have been wasting time.”

“I think it’s pure human nature to not want to think people are gonna do these things,” Stan chips in suddenly. “But the guy is a sick fuck. We’ve already established he probably wants the killings to look random, but then they’re connected enough so that us Aurors working on the case will make the links, you know?”

“Not only that, but it’s a link that I could make as a Muggleborn,” Louis says, shrugging weakly. “They want me to be scared, don’t they?”

“Fucking hell,” Ron swears, dropping down into an empty seat. “So the plant poison is definitely what killed him?” Louis nods. “Where’s Zayn?”

“I… I don’t know,” Louis says slowly. “Why?”

“Pretty nifty little connection we’ve got going there, is all,” Ron says with a shrug. “It would make sense to bring Liam in for questioning right about now, wouldn’t it?”

“No,” Louis practically shouts. “I-I mean, we’ve just been talking about how clever the killer is, s-so surely you can’t think it’s Liam based off of that? Surely the killer wouldn’t be so stupid as to use something so obvious.”

“That’s a point,” Harry says. “I need to speak to Zayn about that, actually.”

“Speak to Zayn about what?” Zayn asks, trotting in through the portrait hole with a huge sandwich in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. “What’s going on?”

“We need a little Liam Payne update,” Harry tells him. Louis hopes nobody else notices the way Zayn’s face falls ever so slightly before he forces himself neutral. “What’s happening with him now?”

“I…” Zayn starts, mouth flapping open and closed like a fish as he stares rather desperately between his boss and Louis. Louis watches him squeeze his eyes shut and then he blurts, “he’s innocent. He’s innocent and I can prove it.”

Now _that_ Louis was not expecting. An awkward silence holds around the office until Stan mutters, “holy fuck.” Louis slaps him on the arm.

“Prove it how?” Harry asks curiously. There’s no hint of danger in his tone, just pure, blatant curiosity. “Have you got proof?”

Zayn looks to Louis urgently. “Kind of. Maybe. I should have told you this before but I needed to take my time to be sure, you know?”

“What’s going on?” Ron asks loudly. “Zayn, mate, are you okay?”

Zayn takes a long, deep breath. “I think – no, I _know_ – that Liam’s still being utilised,” he says carefully. “I think what they’re doing is Cursing him repeatedly and then wiping his memory after each time, because he’s displaying clear examples of memory loss.”

Harry clasps his hands together in front of him, bringing them up to rest on his chin. “Would you be willing to repeat this under Veritaserum?” Zayn winces and Harry shakes his head quickly. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Zayn, because I do. I mean, I am wondering why you’re only telling us this now, but it’s mainly for the Ministry bigwigs to know that we’re handling this carefully and precisely, you know?”

“No, no, I’ll do it,” Zayn says, nodding weakly. “I… do you need to ask me anything else while I’ve taken it?”

Harry turns to Ron. “I don’t think so? Ron?”

Ron shrugs. “Nah, I don’t think that’s necessary. Although I think you do owe us a bit of an explanation. Why wait until now to tell us this?”

“I…” Zayn says, then takes a deep breath. “I thought that if I told you, you’d tell me to stop, like, doing what I’m doing, right? But the poor lad… he is innocent, I swear. And I don’t want to stop because I think I need to be there with him so the killer doesn’t take his manipulation of him any further, you know? Because at least if I’m around, or they still think that there’s a chance I could be around, then they’ll leave him be, right?”

“That… that is a point,” Harry says. “So you still believe he needs to be kept under Ministry protection?” Zayn nods vigorously. “And you’re happy to be the one to do that job?”

“Yeah,” Zayn says, probably more eagerly than he should. Louis _prays_ that nobody is picking up on this. “I’m happy to do it, honestly.”

“Well, okay,” Harry shrugs. “Seems a simple enough solution. Zayn, you keep up doing what you’re doing. No suspicion will be aroused.” He lets out a long breath. “Do you mind just coming into the back room so we can give you the Veritaserum though?” Zayn hesitates. “I have the Antidote back there too, I promise. It’s just for one question.”

Cautiously, Zayn follows Harry into the back room as instructed. Louis lets out a breath he didn’t even realise he was holding, and then plops back down in the seat next to Stan.

“That was quite something,” Ron notes, staring in the direction the pair just walked in. “Poor Zayn. He seemed so nervous about going under Veritaserum, bless him.”

“It just feels like a big deal, doesn’t it?” Louis pipes up, trying to deflect. “You could literally ask us anything. You could ask me something I didn’t even know about myself and I’d answer truthfully. It’s a bit intimidating.”

“Yeah, I s’pose,” Ron agrees. “Not that we could, to be fair. He’ll have to sign a contract first, I think.”

“Oh, that’s fair enough,” Louis replies with a shrug. “Also, sorry if I was a bit, you know, forthright earlier. I just… I needed to say something today or else I would have gone mad.”

“No, no, I’m glad you did,” Ron says. “And to be fair, you’re right. We’re not really getting anywhere, and I know I haven’t been helping much this past week or so because I’ve been so pissed, but you’re totally right.”

Louis offers him a smile. “I think if we can absolutely rule Liam out as a suspect then we might get somewhere. And that hasn’t been an easy thing to do either. If I hadn’t, like, seen the memory loss for myself then I would still probably be suspicious of him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Liam and Zayn came for dinner at mine and Harry’s maybe ten days ago?” Louis hums. “And basically, I don’t know if you know but I was Gryffindor Quidditch Captain in my Sixth and Seventh years, I played Seeker. Liam was a Slytherin Beater but the reserve one. Anyway, in the most important match of my…” He balls in hands into fists, because it might have been seven years ago but he’s still bitter, “…entire career, he knocked me out and I nearly died. Back then he claimed it was an accident, and to be fair it probably was, I dunno. Anyway, I was knocked off and I was reminding him of this fact and he goes to me, ‘I didn’t know you played Quidditch, Louis.’”

Ron lets out a long whistle. “Fuck, really?”

Louis nods. “Yep,” he says. “At the time, Zayn was, like, ready for his head because I genuinely nearly died. So when he couldn’t remember Zayn was so shocked. But then, like, he took me to one side and explained, and Liam, bless him, looked near tears. I think… I think this has been happening pretty regularly, you know.”

Ron hums pensively. “Then it is probably for the best that Zayn’s sticking close to him,” he muses. “It sounds like keeping an Auror close is gonna be the best way to catch this guy.”

“Agreed,” Louis says. “But also, I was talking to Zayn earlier in the week and we were saying it might be good for us to do more as a wider circle of friends, you know? Get Liam in with our group a bit more so he makes some friends, so if he is still hanging out with the dangerous lot and that’s how he’s being manipulated, well, it might, you know. Slow that down.”

“Good thinking,” Ron says, slapping Louis on the back approvingly. “It feels a bit like we’re getting somewhere now, I think. That’s good.”

“It is good,” Stan agrees. “Um, Ron, do you mind just approving these lists so we can send them through to the Minister?”

“Sure,” Ron says, going round and busying himself with that. Louis takes this as an opportunity to stand up, go over to his own little desk in the corner, where he takes a minute to breathe.

*

“What was it like?” Louis asks him later when they’re both off duty and heading home. Louis offered to buy Zayn a drink after work and the Veritaserum incident, which he easily agreed to, so instead of heading home they’re heading to the Three Broomsticks. “Like, did you feel like yourself or?”

“I felt fine,” Zayn tells him. “It wasn’t that different, except it’s just fucking nerve-wracking because you know there’s no way you can get away with a lie.”

“Did Harry make you sign something?” Louis asks. “Ron mentioned something about you needing a contract.”

“Oh, yeah,” Zayn nods. “And to be fair it was only the one question he asked. It was fine, just a bit scary.”

“You took a long time answering one question,” Louis observes. “You were in there nearly an hour.”

“Yeah, well, we had a bit of a chat after,” Zayn explains. “I told him I wasn’t all that sure about the memory thing for a while, thought he was just a bit dopey, like; but now I’m sure because he literally forgot his own sister.”

Louis winces. “That’s tough.”

“Yeah, that was horrible,” Zayn says. They reach the pub door and Louis pushes it open, waiting for Zayn to step inside before he follows. “Cheers. But yeah, it’s all just messy.”

“You’re telling me,” Louis whistles. They settle at a table before Louis goes up, returning a few minutes later with a pint in each hand. “So what’s your plan of action now?”

Zayn shrugs somewhat helplessly. “Deflect like mad. Stop Liam from panicking but also, like, try and do it so he doesn’t go and visit a doctor.”

Louis’s eyes go wide. “How the bloody hell are you gonna manage that?”

“Fuck knows,” Zayn says, bottom lip jutting out. “I’m gonna keep him distracted, I guess.” He turns to look at Louis, and his eyes are shining with such a deep sadness that Louis automatically reaches for his hand. “Will you help?”

Louis nods. “Of course. You guys are welcome round ours whenever. We’ll get him out with some of the lads too. It’s been ages since I’ve seen half of them, we need a big reunion.”

Zayn hums his agreement and shoots him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Lou.”

Louis darts forward and kisses his cheek. “So what else did you and Potter talk about?”

“Oh, you know, he was asking roughly how much time I was spending with Liam, and I said a lot of my free time but obviously not all. And he asked whether that meant there were good windows where he was, like, vulnerable to being manipulated and I said yes.”

After a long, slow sip of his drink, Louis has to ask, “does he know you’re sleeping with him?”

“Merlin’s left bollock, of course he doesn’t,” Zayn snaps. “I kept it pretty vague, but you know, free times means, like, evening and shit.”

“You sneaky little prick,” Louis says with a sly grin. Zayn, however, doesn’t smile.

“I feel like I lied to Harry Potter,” he murmurs quietly. “I feel like I’m double-crossing my own side. But I can’t put Liam’s safety at risk, Lou, I can’t. Whoever this person is… I have a feeling Liam trusts them. And letting him know about that would only serve to put him further in danger.”

“Shit,” Louis says dumbly. “Really? Do you think it’s his family or something?”

“I don’t know,” Zayn says with a weak shrug. “All I know is I’m fucking scared. I don’t know what to do.”

“Keep doing what you’re doing,” Louis says with a small, soft smile. “All you can do is keep up the bloody amazing job you’re doing, because you’re keeping Liam safe and you’ve gained his trust and he adores you.”

“I think I love him,” Zayn whispers, turning his face away so Louis can’t see it. “I’m not… it’s not the right time, you know, to tell him, but I…”

Louis grins despite himself. “I know you do, babes. It’s clear as fucking day. You’re both mad for each other.”

“He’s so great,” Zayn sighs, then necks half his pint in one swift chug. “D’ya… do you think he feels the same?”

“Oh, come the fuck on,” Louis scoffs. “Course he does, you tit. You two are more disgusting than me and Harry, with the eye-fucking and the fucking _fonding._ ”

“Fonding?” Zayn asks. Louis rolls his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says dryly. “The _whole ‘you’re just too good to be true, can’t take my eyes off of you’_ shite I have to put up with all the time.”

“Fuck,” Zayn says, no louder than a whisper. “Fuck, Lou.”

“I know right,” Louis says, wrapping a hand around Zayn’s wrist and giving it a quick squeeze. “Falling in love is fucking amazing, ain’t it?”

“I’m going to break his heart,” Zayn says sadly, tugging his arm away from Louis and hugging his around himself. “He’s going to find out that I lied to him eventually. There’s no way around it. And I’m gonna lose him.”

“No, you won’t,” Louis says gently. “He loves you too, you know. He’ll understand, I’m sure.”

“I’m feeding him so many lies, Lou,” Zayn says forlornly. “He’s not going to trust me again. He loves the idea of me, but really I’m no good for him. I’m just hurting him, and he doesn’t even know.”

“Better you hurt him a little now and he stays safe than you don’t and he’s in real danger,” Louis says. “Or at least that’s how I view it. What you’re doing is so necessary, Zed. He’ll understand, I’m sure he will. I _know_ he will.”

Zayn lets out something akin to a whimper, turning to bury his face in Louis’s shoulder. Louis winds an arm around his best mate’s shoulders and squeezes. Even despite their breakthrough this afternoon, watching Zayn panic and tremble like this makes it feel like the case has reached something close to rock bottom, and he can only hope that this means it can’t possibly get much worse.


	6. Protego Totalum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in this chapter for a minor character death (although it's a major character in the boy's lives), themes of depression, loss, and other sad things. :(

Of course it gets worse. Of course it does. This killer, whoever they are, is out to hurt people in the most horrible of ways. Louis thinks he should have suspected, really, that it was only a matter of time before they came for one of the team.

The worst day of Louis’s life starts on a too-hot day in mid-May.

“What’s going on?” he asks Zayn as he stumbles into work later than he should do, setting his bag onto his desk and raising his eyebrows. The office is stony silent and Simon is muttering to Ron at the front of the room, face set in a hard line. Zayn just offers a shrug.

“No fucking idea, mate,” he replies. “Word going round is that there’s been another death, like, literally just this morning, and Simon’s waiting for Potter to get here because this one’s a big deal, apparently.”

Louis’s eyebrows shoot up. “Like, what kind of a big deal?”

Zayn just shrugs again. “Like I said, Lou, no idea. D’ya think we’ve got time to go for a cig before…”

“Tomlinson?” Simon suddenly calls out from the front of the office. “Tomlinson, I need a word.”

His brows shoot up even higher and he looks back at Zayn for a second, who just pulls a face. He drops the strap of his bag off his shoulder and nods as he follows Simon into one of the private rooms at the back, running a nervous hand through his hair.

Once the door is closed behind them, Louis coughs worriedly into the back of his hand and slides into a chair. “Everything alright?” he says, eager to cut through the painful silence. “I’m not in trouble, am I?”

“You’re not in trouble,” Simon confirms. “I, um…” He lets out a long sigh and presses the back of his hand into his forehead. “I’ve never had to do this to one of my own, so I don’t really know how to do it.”

“One of your own what?” Louis asks, then his body goes cold. “What’s… what’s happening?”

“Louis, I’m afraid I have to break some news to you,” Simon says. It’s clearly something horrible, because Simon _never_ calls any of them by their first names and he’s looking at Louis so sadly that Louis feels small and terrified. “It’s… there was another death this morning.”

“H-Harry?” is all he can manage to stammer out, his hands already shaking and his voice choked. “It’s not…”

“It’s not Harry, no,” Simon hurries to say. “Your fiancé is fine.” Louis breathes a long sigh of relief and shoves his hair out his eyes. “It’s, um, I take it you know his step-dad, Robin Twist?”

Louis freezes, hand tangled in his fringe and mouth dropping open, flapping rather uselessly. Simon is looking at him so sadly, and he presses his lips together before he hands Louis over a file with the photo of a face Louis knows well pinned to the front.

“Robin,” Louis gulps, hands coming up to cover his mouth in shock and terror. “They… he got Robin?”

“I’m so sorry, Louis,” Simon says from across the table, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Obviously this was never meant to happen, but this… this case is scary. The killer… whoever they are, they’re probably – well, _definitely_ onto us, or at least that’s what it looks like. I take it Mr. Twist was a Muggleborn?”

Louis nods dumbly, bile building up in his throat as the photo of Harry’s stepdad waves up at him, lips pursed in a sad smile. It was only a week since he last saw him and now he’s gone, just like that. But it isn’t just like that. The killer is smart, and definitely onto them. They wanted to hurt the team, wanted to hurt Louis, and they did. And that’s…

“Louis?” Simon’s voice says, sounding too close but far away at the same time. “Louis, are you listening?”

“No,” he croaks honestly, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Shit, sorry, sir. I’m…”

“Hey, don’t apologise,” Simon says, yanking a tissue from a box on the desk behind him and handing it over. “This is horrible and I’m so sorry.” He waits patiently as Louis dabs at his eyes, hands trembling. Robin won’t stop waving at him so Louis flips over the file, feeling guilty and awful and sick.

“Do they know?” he croaks, hands still shaking around the tissue. “Do the family know?”

“No.” Simon shakes his head and sighs sadly. “I… the usual protocol, as you know, is to send an Auror round to the family home, but I figured that maybe you…”

“I’ll tell them,” Louis says with a tight nod. “Don’t let anyone tell them but me, yeah? Please.”

“Absolutely,” Simon agrees. “I thought you might want to, so I put a stop on it.”

“When, um, when did it happen?” Louis gulps. “And, um, how? Was it poison?”

Simon takes a deep breath. “No,” he says slowly, sliding into the seat next to Louis. “And I’m so sorry again to be the one to tell you this. But it’s clear… well, it’s clear that this case was pinpointed in a different way. No poison was used, Louis, they Cursed him.”

Louis chokes on another sob. “They… what?”

Simon reaches forward and kneads at Louis’s shoulder comfortingly. “On the way to work this morning, it looks like. They found him dead in the Ministry’s Apparation room, meaning it was fast and probably unseen. They used the Killing Curse, so he was dead in seconds.” He squeezes Louis’s shoulder again. “Which, I mean, if that’s any consolation, he died quickly and painlessly.”

“Not really,” Louis admits, his voice wheezing. He’s really going to be sick. “So can I, um… I can’t let Harry stay in work, I’m sorry. I need to, like- I need him. The family deserves to know.”

“Absolutely,” Simon says again. “Take the rest of the week off. I’ll contact St. Mungo’s and get Harry sent home immediately.”

Louis nods again. “T-thank you,” he says, taking a deep breath to try and quell the tears that are threatening to fall once more. “Um, shall I…?”

“Feel free to go,” Simon nods, pulling his hand away and standing back up. “You can use our fireplace if you want to get out of here undetected.” Louis nods and stands up himself, tossing the tissue into the bin.

“Can I see Zayn before I go?”

“Yeah, of course,” Simon says. “I was going to let them know after you’d gone, but would you rather you tell them yourself?”

“Just… just Zayn, if you don’t mind,” Louis rasps, hands shaking as he reaches for the doorknob.

“Whatever you need,” is all Simon says, clapping him on the back once again. Louis opens the door and stumbles back into the office, which immediately goes silent.

“Lou?” Zayn asks, jumping to his feet and hurrying over to him. The second he’s within reaching distance Louis throws himself at him and starts crying again, sobbing into his best friend’s chest and clutching at him like he’ll crumble without him to keep him up. Zayn lets out a strangled sort of sound and tugs him forward, practically carrying him through into the back corridor and away from everyone else. “Lou, oh Lou, _Lou._ Babe, no, please, what’s happened?”

“It’s my fault,” Louis manages to sob, pressing all his weight into Zayn’s chest. “It’s my fucking fault, I…”

“Louis, please,” Zayn says rather helplessly, trying to manoeuvre them so he can hold Louis properly. He ends up pressing them against the wall and carefully sliding them to the floor, so Louis’s face is pressed into his tummy and he can stroke through his hair. They must look a right sight but Louis has never cared about anything less in his life. “Louis, babe? You’re babbling, love, I can’t understand you, but I need… I need to know what’s happened. What’s happened?”

“Harry...” Louis manages to wheeze. He feels Zayn go completely still above him and he forces himself to splutter out the next bit. “Harry’s stepdad.”

“Jesus Christ, Louis,” Zayn mutters. “I thought something had happened to actual Harry for a second.”

“His stepdad,” Louis chokes, then starts weeping again. “He’s dead, Zayn. He _killed_ him.”

“Who killed him, babe?” Zayn says slowly, fingers carding through his hair again. “Harry killed his stepdad?”

“No, of course he fucking didn’t,” Louis cries miserably. “The killer, whoever the fuck he is. He killed him, Zayn. To get at me. He fucking…”

“Oh, shit,” Zayn breathes out, running his free hand through his own hair. “Shit, shit, _fuck,_ shit.”

“It’s my fault,” Louis hiccups, snuffling wetly. Zayn starts to protest but Louis cuts him off. “No, it really, really is. Harry… he was fucking right all those months ago, this case… I shouldn’t have done it, I shouldn’t have.”

“Louis, no,” Zayn insists hurriedly. “You can’t blame this on yourself. You absolutely should have worked on this case, even Harry said so, I… I’m not having that, babe. It’s not your fault, okay?”

“It is,” Louis sobs. “It is, he’s fucking dead, it’s…” He cuts himself off so he can cry harder. “What about Anne? She’s lost her husband! She’s lost him so they could get at _me._ Me! Her son’s fucking…”

“Yeah, but Louis, we don’t know that,” Zayn jumps in. “It could just have been random, it’s clear whoever they are they’re coming for all Muggleborns.”

“They Cursed him, Zayn,” Louis yells. “They Cursed him straight dead and it’s because of me.”

“They Cursed him?” Zayn repeats, voice dangerous. He lets out a long exhale and Louis struggles to sit himself up, tucking himself into Zayn’s side and nuzzling his face into his shoulder. “Fuck, Lou, holy fuck.”

“I know,” Louis sniffs and just lets himself be cuddled for a bit. “I know.”

He’s not sure how long they stay sitting on the floor together, or even how much of that time he spends crying, but it definitely feels too soon that he’s back home in his little cottage. Harry isn’t home yet, and he ends up spending most of the time he’s waiting for him smoking himself hoarse out the front door. He’s just smoked his third down to the filter when he hears the familiar whoosh of the fire, then Harry steps out of it. Despite the journey his hair is still in its immaculate little bun and his gorgeous face is set in a tight line of worry. Louis drops his cigarette onto the ground and walks over to him.

“Louis?” Harry says, accepting Louis into his arms readily but he’s stiff, cautious.  Louis just clings to him for a bit because he’s sad, but also because there was a really small but overwhelmingly loud part of his brain telling him that they were coming for Harry next, Muggleborn or not. “What’s going on? Why did I get called home?” Louis sighs and pulls back ever so slowly, and Harry knocks his chin up gently and shakes his head. “Oh god, you’ve been crying.”

Louis nods, still silent, because he really doesn’t know how he’s going to say this.

“Something… something’s really wrong, isn’t it?” Harry says nervously, and Louis can see his Adam’s apple bob as he takes a nervous gulp of air. “Louis, talk to me. Please. What’s going on?”

“Harry,” Louis croaks, and he sighs and reaches for both of Harry’s hands before he guides him to the sofa. He sits him down, then brings both his hands up to his mouth, pressing a soft, barely there kiss over each knuckle. “Baby, I need you to know how sorry I am. I’m so, so…”

“Sorry for what?” Harry cuts in, and his voice sounds cutting and harsh and scared. “Louis, tell me. Sorry for what?”

“What I have to tell you,” Louis says, twisting Harry’s ring around. He sighs, knowing he has to just go for it. “When I got into the office today, Simon told me there had been another death.”

Harry snatches his hand out of Louis’s and uses it to cover his mouth. Louis squeezes the one he’s still holding. “Is it someone we know then?” Harry asks, voice already coming out thick and strangled. “Lou, who was it?”

Louis scrubs a hand down his face. “Oh, baby love. I’m so, so sorry. Yeah, it was. It was Robin.”

“Robin,” Harry repeats, then his face crumples. His body quivers and sinks in on itself before sobs start to wrack through his body, and all Louis can think to do is shift forward and wrap his rigid body up in his arms as best as he can. The heartbreak in Harry’s cries makes Louis’s own heart crack and crumble to dust for the second time that day, and even though Harry is bigger and longer he scoops him up into his lap and presses him into his chest, rocking him gently and trying his best not to flinch when Harry’s nails pierce at his skin.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I love you,” is all Louis can think to repeat, over and over like some kind of mantra. Harry curls up into him and clings, and it takes a while, a long while, but eventually his loud, gut-wrenching sobs soften to just weepy hiccups. He doesn’t let go.

It feels like hours before he tries to untangle himself, wiping his snotty nose on his sleeve. His trembling hands reach right back out for Louis, who takes them easily, kissing them gently. “Louis?” he asks, voice small and tired. Louis nods in anticipation. “Does Mum know?”

Louis winces. “No, love. No, she doesn’t yet, and, um, it’s my… I’m the one who has to tell her. They always send Aurors round but I said I’d do it. I wanted you to hear it from me.”

“Fuck,” Harry mutters under his breath, coughing weakly into his palm. “So we need to go tell her?”

Louis nods sadly. “I mean, I’ll go by myself if you want, but I thought…”

“Don’t be daft,” Harry scoffs, shaking his head wildly. His hair has mostly fallen out his bun at this point, his uniform stained with snot. He looks more dejected than Louis’s ever seen him look in his life. “I can’t not go, can I?”

“That’s up to you, sweetheart,” Louis says, shuffling forward a bit so he can coax Harry into resting his head on his shoulder. “Can I get you anything?”

“My stepdad back,” Harry sighs, tucking himself closer to Louis despite the fact that they’re both sweaty and hot. Louis just clings to him a little tighter. “No, I know, that was not good to say. Um, what’s the time?”

“Half three,” Louis notes, checking the time on their DVD player. “Will your mum be home?”

“Maybe.” Harry gives a half-hearted shrug. “Is it Tuesday today?”

“It is,” Louis confirms. “Isn’t that her half day?”

Harry nods. “Tuesday and Friday.”

Louis presses a long kiss into his jaw. “Do you want to go now?” Harry shakes his head, leaning his face closer to chase Louis’s kiss. “Do you want me to be the one to tell her, love? Because technically that is my job.”

He doesn’t say that he’s a hundred percent sure that it’s also his job that killed him, or that he was definitely killed as a way to get at the things that he loves most. He doesn’t say that it looks like the killer has infiltrated the Ministry one way or another, and that he’s now had to ask his best friend and Harry fucking Potter to work out how this happened, with tears pouring down his face and Zayn’s arm tight around his shoulders to keep him upright. He absolutely doesn’t.

“I don’t know,” Harry mumbles, snuffling weakly into Louis shoulder. “I don’t know how to say it.”

“I’ll do it, baby love,” Louis assures, fingers moving up to untangle his hair tie and smooth down his hair. “She’s just going to need you there, like, as her support network. Gems too.”

“Gems is at work until six,” Harry sniffs. “I can send her a Patronus though.” He freezes suddenly. “Oh my god, Lou, there’s not a way, like… oh _god…_ ”

“Baby, what?” Louis tries, taking both of Harry’s trembling hands in his own and squeezing comfortingly. “There’s not a way what?”

“What if they know already?” Harry whisper-sobs, eyes shiny with a fresh wave of tears. “What if it got out and they just, like, heard it from an Owl from the Prophet or something?”

“They won’t,” Louis says firmly, squeezing his hands even tighter. “Simon and Harry Potter will make damn sure of that. This one is too close to us in the Ministry for them to risk it getting anywhere.”

Harry nods sadly before burying his face back in Louis’s shoulder, arms wrapping around his waist like a vice. Louis holds him and rocks him, stays petting at his hair and whispering words of reassurance and apology into his ear. He knows it’s not much but he’s not sure what else he can do at this point, not with Harry.

It’s with a heavy heart that he realises that Harry’s reaction is, in part, for his mum. Anne and Robin were a gorgeous couple together, strong and consistent in a way Louis understands she and Harry’s biological dad never were. They had an amazing relationship, and even though Louis also knows that Harry never got to know Robin hugely well, having moved straight from spending all his teenage years away at boarding school into their little home, he knows how much Robin meant to his mum. That hurts more, he thinks, because then Louis thinks about what it would be like to lose his other half. The idea of losing Harry makes him feel physically sick, so he quashes the idea and clears his throat.

“Shall we go, sweetheart?” he probes gently. Harry whines and snuggles into him deeper. “Harry, come on, love. She deserves to know.”

“Okay,” Harry sniffs, but makes no effort to move. “Okay.”

“Baby.”

“I just…” Harry starts, pausing to wipe at his nose with the collar of his ruined shirt. “Let me change first, yeah?”

Louis nods, keeping a hand touching Harry until he moves too far away for him to do so. The sound of his heavy feet trudging up the stairs is sombre, but Louis doesn’t follow. He wants to give Harry a few minutes to himself, to let him process and do what he needs, because what they’re about to do is probably the hardest thing they’ll ever do, both individually and as a couple.

It takes maybe ten minutes for Harry to return. He’s wearing a jumper of Louis’s that’s stretched across his shoulders, and rolled up jogging bottoms. He hasn’t bothered to put on socks nor shoes. His hair is pulled back into a loose bun, flyaway tendrils hanging down at the front. His eyes are still red from crying and he looks lost in his own home, staring blankly in front of him and weakly holding out a hand, as if to summon Louis to his side. Louis goes, taking his hand and squeezing in a comforting manner, pressing his other hand into the small of Harry’s back.

“Come on, there’s a good lad,” he says gently, leading Harry over to the fireplace and dropping his hold on Harry’s hand to reach for the Floo powder. Harry lets out the tiniest of whimpers, which makes Louis’s heart crack even further into pieces, and he presses his forehead against the top of Harry’s shoulder and mumbles, “I’m here, love, I’m here.”

Harry’s breath is shaky and so are his hands as he reaches towards the Floo powder. “You first?” he says, phrasing it like a question.

“Alright.” Louis nods carefully, then kisses the spot where his forehead was resting before taking a handful of powder. He reluctantly pulls away from Harry to step into the fire, clears his throat, and then shouts Anne’s address.

The familiar whooshing and flying queasily through the fireplace is almost welcome, but before he really has time to think about it he’s landing in Anne’s all-too familiar brick fireplace, feet hitting concrete hard. He straightens up and moves out, only to find himself in an empty living room.

He fixes his face into something somewhat presentable and then clears the soot from his throat. “Anne?” he calls, then coughs again. “Anne, are you home?”

He doesn’t get a reply, so he moves through into the kitchen, treading softly. He finds her in there straight away, a book propped open on her lap and a cold cup of tea on the table next to where she’s dozing in the rocking chair in the corner. Louis silently curses, then pads over there softly and slowly covers her hand with his own.

“Anne?” he says again, squeezing ever so slightly. “Anne, wake up.”

It takes a few moments, but then the tell-tale signs of her waking up begin to flicker across her face, and her eyes flutter open and closed a few times before she jumps, which in turn makes Louis jump.

“Oh, Louis, bloody hell,” she sighs, pressing a hand over her chest. “Hi there, sweetheart. Merlin, sorry about that. I thought you were Robin.”

It’s a simple and innocent enough assumption for her to make, but it’s enough to get Louis’s bottom lip trembling again and he takes a deep breath in an attempt to staunch the tears. It doesn’t go unnoticed, and Anne stands up hurriedly and takes his face between her soft hands.

“Louis?” she utters. “Oh, love, what’s wrong? Where’s… where’s Harry?”

“He’s coming,” Louis sniffs, taking a deep breath that sounds more like a hiccup before he brings his hands up to cover Anne’s. “I… there’s… I need to tell you… _fuck._ ”

Anne doesn’t take her eyes off him, but she curls her fingers so their hands are locked together. “Is he okay? Do I need to brace myself for bad news?”

Louis crumbles at that. He’s vaguely aware of a tear falling, breathing ragged as he nods quickly and squeezes again. “Yeah, yeah, you do. This is… it’s not about Harry though. It’s…” He cuts himself off, eyes flicking upwards as he desperately tries to get some air back into his lungs. “Can we sit?”

Anne nods dumbly. “I’m… you’re scaring me a bit, Louis,” she says, trying to laugh but it comes out strangled and false. “Is Harry definitely okay?”

Louis hesitates, because on the one hand he left his boy a mess and he doesn’t know why he hasn’t followed him yet, but on the other hand it’s not Harry’s loss in the same way it’s Anne’s. “Harry’s okay,” he eventually settles on, perching himself on the edge of the sofa. Anne carefully sits down next to him and stifles a yawn. “It’s… okay, I just need to come out and say it.” Anne reaches for his hand again, and he laces their fingers together without second thought. “You know the case? My case, with the Ministry, with the… with the killer who is going around and, um, killing individuals.”

Anne nods. “I keep up with it in the Prophet if I can.”

“Well, then, you might have seen an article – a few months ago, mind - about a lead we had where we, um, we worked out that the killer is actually targeting Muggleborns.”

Anne nods again. “Yeah, we’ve been cautious here,” she says carefully. “Robin’s been taking special measures like the Prophet suggested, you see.”

Louis forces his face to stay neutral, praying more tears don’t spill out at the thought. _Godric,_ knowing Robin he was probably really pleased that measures were being put in place and he was doing his part by keeping him and his wife safe, yet they caught him when he was just going into work. He feels _sick._

“Yeah,” he croaks slowly. “Well, you see, I…” He sighs, biting his lip and squeezing his eyes closed. “Oh, fuck. I’ve just gotta say it, Anne. I’m so, so sorry.”

Anne’s hands are trembling, her bottom lip caught between her front teeth and her eyes are wide, nervous. With a shaky sigh, Louis squeezes her hands and starts to tell her everything.

*

Harry shows up an hour later, when Anne’s mostly cried herself out and Louis’s fixed her a cup of tea. She sits on the sofa clutching it, hands still shaking around it, little droplets of milky liquid splashing onto the carpet. Louis’s pacing, sipping his own scalding hot brew as he goes, when the familiar whoosh of the fireplace causes his head to snap up and nervous goosebumps to prickle up his skin.

“Harry,” he breathes, setting the mug on the windowsill before he hurries forward. “Bloody hell, where have you been?”

“I…” Harry starts, but the second he sees his mother he stops, face falling and hand going up to cover his mouth. “Mum…”

Anne looks up slowly. Her eyes are red rimmed and her bottom lip is trembling. “Harry, oh, Harry…”

“Mum,” Harry says again meekly, hurrying over to her and gently coaxing the tea out of her hands before he pulls her into a tight hug. She buries her face in his shoulder as she starts to cry again, and Louis’s heart breaks a little bit more. “Mummy, no, it’s okay, I’m here.”

Anne lets out a distressed sob, and Louis flees into the kitchen. He’s been trying desperately to staunch his own tears for so long, forcing himself not to cry as he held Anne through the initial news by biting his lip so hard that it still hurts. But now, out of sight and safely separated by two walls, Louis lets himself have a cry. He leans against the counter, presses his hands to his face and weeps into them to muffle his sobs. He rather selfishly wants Harry to come through and check on him, but he quashes that thought right down as another of Anne’s desperate cries rings in his ears. So he cries to keep quiet while he cries himself out, drenching his palms with snot and tears and sweat.

Once he’s (mostly) cried himself out, he washes his hands and splashes cool water on his face in the kitchen sink. He takes a deep breath and then puts the kettle on without really thinking about it, pottering around the kitchen for clean mugs and teabags.

He’s stirring the sugar into Harry’s cup when the boy himself enters the room. His shoulders are slumped and his hair is all over the place, and Louis doesn’t hesitate to tug him into his arms and squeeze.

“Hi,” he mumbles into Harry’s chest. “How is she?”

“Bad,” Harry sniffs back. “She asked for more tea and some tissues though, so I came in here.” He pulls back just enough to coax Louis’s chin up with two fingers. “Have you been crying?”

Louis pauses, but nods. “A bit, yeah,” he admits. “I couldn’t help it.” Harry shakes his head sadly and Louis squeezes him tighter. “Where were you earlier, babe?”

Harry sighs into his hair. “I just… I couldn’t watch you break her heart,” he says miserably, keeping his grip on Louis’s back tight. “I know that was selfish of me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Louis says gently. “I was just worried, because I couldn’t leave your mum, obviously, but I wondered if something had…” He cuts himself off, not letting him think about the still-terrifying thought that they’re coming for Harry next. It’s unlikely, he grants himself, but not impossible.

Harry shrugs his shoulders against him. “Sorry,” he mumbles again. “I was also writing an Owl for Gemma. She’s coming over later, I just said I had something important to tell her but I didn’t go into detail. That wouldn’t have been fair to do not face to face, you know?”

“Yeah,” Louis agrees. “What time is she getting here?”

“About half six, she reckons,” Harry says, then he sighs. “That’s going to be fucking hard.”

Louis lets out a long sigh too. “Oh, babe,” he says, running a hand up and down Harry’s sweat-damp back. “Here, the tea’ll be getting cold. You go back in there and I’ll bring them through for us, yeah?”

Harry nods and lets go, grabbing the box of tissues on the dining table before sweeping out of the kitchen quickly. Louis picks up Harry and Anne’s tea and then heads through, setting Harry’s on the coffee table and handing Anne’s over to Harry. Both Styles shoot him a small but grateful smile.

“Can I get you anything else?” he questions softly. Anne shakes her head, leaning further into Harry and toying with the tissue between her fingers.

“No, thank you,” she mumbles. “Do you know where Gemma is?”

“Gemma’s coming, Mum,” Harry tells her. “She’ll be here after work.”

Louis retrieves his tea from the kitchen and perches himself in the armchair across from the pair. He sips it slowly, silently, just watching as Harry soothes his mother with long cuddles and gentle kisses to the hair. He’d be endeared as heck if the circumstances weren’t as awful as they are, and he finds himself zoning out enough for the little voice at the back of his head to remind him that it’s all his fault.

_It’s all his fault._

By the time half six rolls around, the now-familiar feeling of dread is sitting low in Louis’s stomach and they’ve drunk through so many cups of tea Louis isn’t sure how neither Anne nor Harry have gone for a piss yet. He’s just collecting mugs and carrying them into the kitchen when he hears the familiar whoosh of an arrival by Floo powder in the next room, and he vaguely hears chatter and gasps over the sound of running water from the tap.

He decides in that moment to stay in the kitchen and give the family their moment, but clearly Gemma has other plans.

“ _Louis Tomlinson!”_

Gemma sounds more angry than upset, which surprises him. He slowly turns the tap off and dries his hands on his trousers, then walks through into the living room cautiously. “Hi, Gems…” he starts, but Gemma looks positively _murderous,_ eyes wide and hands clenched into fists. Harry has his arm around his mother again, and he looks like he’s crying.

“What the _fuck?_ ” she snarls. Louis opens his mouth and then closes it again, confused. “What the actual fuck, Louis?”

“Wha-?” Louis tries, but she cuts him off with a low growl.

“How fucking dare you come in this house after what you’ve done?” she hisses. Before Louis even knows what’s happening Gemma’s in his face, her wand extended and pressed harshly up against his Adam’s apple. “How fucking _dare_ you…”

“Gemma,” Harry cries from behind her. “Gemma, what are you _doing?_ ”

Gemma spins round wildly. “He _killed_ him, H,” she snaps. “They fucking found our family through your fucking boyfriend’s connection to the Ministry and they used it to… to do… to do _this._ It’s his fucking job that got him killed, I fucking… it’s the only explanation, I mean…”

Louis hangs his head, ashamed and humiliated and terrified, but Gemma shoves his chin back up with her wand.

“Look at me,” she snarls.

“Gems, _please,_ ” Harry’s saying, voice cracking. “Don’t say that!”

“Why not?” Gemma screeches. “I’ve lost my fucking step-dad and I’m supposed to be, what, calm?”

“No, of course not,” Harry says brokenly, and _Godric,_ he’s sobbing again and so is Anne and Louis’s about to start as well. “Just don’t take it out on Louis.”

“But it’s his fault,” Gemma yells, and Louis watches helplessly as her eyes begin to leak fat tears. “Why else would they go for Robin? Robin…” She cuts off, the hand that isn’t holding her wand coming up to staunch a sob. “Fuck you, Louis. _Fuck you._ ”

“Gemma, if I could explain,” Louis tries, holding up his hands, but Gemma lets out a snarl and prods his throat with her wand harder.

“What’s there to explain?” she shrills. “You’re a fucking murderer.”

Louis feels a tear drop down his cheek and he shakes his head even more fervently. “I’m not, I’m _not…_ ”

He is, he _is…_

Gemma turns again, lip trembling as she looks over to Harry. “I don’t want him in my house. I want him out.” She whips back around. “Are you deaf? Get _out,_ Louis, get out! Stay the fuck away from my family.”

For a terrifying moment, Louis takes Harry’s silence as an agreement, but then he sees that Harry’s crying too hard to speak. He hangs his head and shuffles towards the fireplace with heavy feet, but then Harry’s long arm flies out and catches hold of his wrist.

“Stay,” he commands as tears keep rolling down his face. “He’s not – _hiccup –_ leaving, Gemma, he’s not, I need him…”

“And Mum needs Robin but look what’s happened,” Gemma barks cruelly. “Look, Harry, I get that you love him and everything but…”

“Gemma, stop this,” Harry pleads desperately, tugging Louis closer. Louis steps as close as he can to Harry and starts to run a comforting hand through his hair. “You’re upsetting Mum even more.”

“Right, Mum’s upset because I’m shouting at the bloke who killed her husband,” Gemma scoffs. She glares at Louis again, and Louis lets out an involuntary whimper and clutches at Harry a little tighter. “I mean it, Haz, I don’t want him in my house.”

“Gemma, stop,” Anne croaks, surprising Louis and evidentially both Gemma and Harry. “Leave him alone, it’s not helping.”

“Mummy, he’s…”

“He’s your brother’s fiancé,” Anne snaps, pulling out of Harry’s arms and wiping his eyes on the back of her hand. “Stop saying it’s his fault because that’s unfair. That’s not how it happened.”

 _It’s unfair but not completely untrue,_ the voice in the back of Louis’s head reminds him.

Gemma purses her lips and then drops down into the armchair where Louis had been sitting all afternoon, where she covers her face with her hands and starts to cry. Any other time Louis would go over there and give her a hug, but right now he doesn’t even feel like he could offer her a tissue without her laying into him, let alone instigate physical contact.

It’s horrible, because now the air is even tenser than it was before, and for the first time in his life Louis feels unwelcome in the house he’s been calling his second home since he was seventeen years old. He awkwardly perches on the sofa arm, still stroking at Harry’s hair, until it becomes too stifling and his skin feels itchy and too tight.

“Haz,” he says quietly, leaning over to press his lips against the side of Harry’s head. “I’m gonna go home, I think.” Harry whimpers and turns to look at him desperately, a large hand curling around Louis’s thigh, but Louis shakes his head gently. “Not, like, without you. I just need to make sure the cat is fed and has been out for a wee, and to get us pyjamas and our toothbrushes and stuff.”

“You’re staying over?” Gemma asks dangerously. “You gonna kill us in our sleep while you’re at it?”

“Gemma Anne Styles,” Anne shrills. “That’s _enough._ ”

Louis forces himself to take a deep breath and counts to ten in a bid to stop himself from crying. He nods and then gently takes a hold of Harry’s hand, bringing it up from his thigh to his mouth so he can brush his lips over the knuckles. “I won’t be long,” he says, and he’s actually quite impressed that his voice didn’t crack. “I love you.”

“Love you,” Harry mumbles, and stands up with him to give him a proper hug. Louis sinks into it, pressing his face into Harry’s chest where he takes several deep breaths. Harry’s hand comes up to hold Louis’s head in place, like he knows Louis’s about to cry, and it’s so familiar and comforting and warm that he stays in the hold a little longer than he planned to.

The thing that hurts him the most is that yesterday he would have considered her a sister, but now Gemma’s made it clear that she doesn’t want him anywhere near her and he understands. His main focus is Harry though, but he can barely stand to look at him because the heartbreak on his boy’s face is the worst thing he’s ever seen. He feels awful that it’s become about him and not Robin, and he needs some time away.

With great reluctance, he pulls himself out of Harry’s arms and stumbles towards the fireplace without another word. He Floos home easily and once he’s in the kitchen he almost runs towards the drawer where he keeps his cigarettes. He grabs the pack and the lighter and darts towards the front door. The first breath of nicotine feels like fresh air, and he leans against the doorframe and lets out a long, sad sigh.

He smokes four cigarettes down to the filter in what feels like no time at all, and if it was any other day he’d probably worry about the lecture he’s going to get from Harry for it, but right now he’s just grateful for the breather and the relaxation it brings to his head, which won’t stop going a mile a minute. Instead he forces himself to do what he came home for.

He lets Hermione out, tops up her bowls with biscuits and water and then grabs some clothes for them both, their toothbrushes and other sundries. He goes back into the kitchen and is all ready to Floo back when he pauses and decides to run upstairs to their little potions cabinet. He pulls out three vials of Sleeping Draft (kept to help Harry when his bad back gets too sore for him to sleep comfortably) and pockets them, then goes back down and grabs his bag. He Floos back over there, as much as he doesn’t want to, and immediately hurries back over to Harry’s side.

Harry’s in the kitchen, buttering bread for sandwiches with shaky hands. Louis gently prises the knife out of his hand and takes over, muttering a quick, “I’ll do this, love. Your mum needs you.”

“I needed a minute,” Harry mumbles back. “I’m so sorry, Lou,  that was so… I don’t know what came over her.”

Louis just shrugs. “Not your fault.” He sighs. “I can see why she said what she said though.”

“It’s rubbish though,” Harry says, but he doesn’t sound fierce or defensive like Louis hoped; he just sounds tired. “Can you finish making the sandwiches so I can go for a wee?”

Louis nods and turns his head for a kiss, but Harry brushes past him without paying him any mind. The sting of rejection Louis feels is red hot, and he has to force himself to take a deep breath to calm himself down.

_Harry’s only apologising because he’s Harry. He says it’s rubbish but he probably believes it, and he has every reason to._

He suppresses the thought – _stop making everything about yourself, Louis, Jesus –_ and picks up the butter knife again. He spreads a thick layer on each slice of bread and then peels out bits of ham from their plastic packet, then adds lettuce leaves on top. He cuts each sandwich neatly into four squares and pops them on a plate. He flicks the kettle on as he leaves the room, setting the plate down on the coffee table and then collects some of the many mugs, hurrying to leave the room so Gemma doesn’t bite his head off again.

The evening goes awfully slowly, but once it starts to get dark outside Louis decides what he’s going to do. He checks his pocket to make sure the little vials of potion are still there, then adds them to probably their tenth cup of tea of the day. He does all the washing up and cleans over the surfaces in the kitchen, then locks up the house (taking care to Bewitch it locked from the inside, both front and back). He goes upstairs and makes up Harry’s little single bed so they can sleep there tonight, and by the time he’s finished and returned downstairs Anne is fast asleep in Harry’s arms, her tissue still clutched tightly in her fingers.

Gemma too is asleep, her body stretched out in the armchair, head resting on one hand. He lets out a slow breath and then wanders over to Harry, pushing his long hair away from where it’s fallen into his face, and checks to see if he’s out too. He is, thankfully, and Louis can’t help but press a long kiss into his forehead before he lets him loll back onto the sofa.

He decides to carry Anne upstairs first, so he carefully untangles her from Harry’s hold and gets her up in his arms, carrying her bridal style towards the stairs. She’s not that heavy, thank goodness, and he only stumbles once getting her up the stairs. He lays her into bed fully clothed and tucks her in, then pulls her bedroom curtains closed and makes sure she has water and tissues by her bed. He then goes back for Gemma and does the same. He thinks she’d probably kill him if she knew what he was doing, but he makes sure she’s tucked in and comfy anyway, because she’s still his sister.

Harry’s a little trickier to manoeuvre, because it’s so much longer and significantly heavier than his female relatives. Louis nearly smacks his head off the doorframe and then almost topples the both of them down the stairs trying to haul him up them. It takes some time but he does it, sliding him on top of the covers where he begins to strip him down. He gets him down to his pants and then slides pyjama bottoms up his long legs, then tugs an old t-shirt over his head. He folds Harry’s clothes slowly and then puts them on the floor, then gets into pyjamas himself and crawls into bed after Harry, the fact that it’s only just gone nine pm be damned.

He makes sure his wand is close by, within an arm’s length, and presses a kiss into Harry’s shoulder before closing his eyes to try and sleep.

“Nox.”

*

In the morning, Louis wakes up with a tremendous pain in his back. He’s plastered up against Harry’s back, which is nothing new, but it’s only as he tries to roll over that he realises with a jolt where they are. If he rolls over he’ll fall out of Harry’s cramped little single bed and onto the floor, so he grips at Harry’s hips and tries to shuffle forward and back onto the bed without waking him.

The thin curtains aren’t doing much to keep the morning sun out, and Louis’s never found it particularly easy to go back to sleep after he’s woken up anyway. Instead, he just keeps himself wrapped around Harry as best he can, a gentle hand rubbing over his tummy in the way he knows he loves. He’s loathed to even try and move more, lest he wake up. The feeling of guilt from yesterday is still there, heavy in his stomach like he’s swallowed a rock.

It’s his fault. It’s his fucking fault.

Despite the fact that it’s painfully uncomfortable and hell on his spine, he’s more than happy to stay there holding him until the familiar motions of Harry waking up start to happen. After a few minutes of sleepy sighs and soft snuffles, a timid little voice can be heard saying, “Lou?”

“Here,” Louis says, voice rough and still thick with sleep. “Here, love.”

“It wasn’t a dream, was it?” Harry says, turning over ever so carefully in Louis’s hold. Once they’re face to face, Louis can already see tears sparkling in Harry’s eyes. “Yesterday happened, didn’t it?”

“Oh, baby,” Louis breathes sadly, adjusting them so Harry’s head is cradled to his bare chest. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Harry doesn’t reply, just starts crying into Louis’s chest again. Louis holds him tighter, lips pressed into his hair, and keeps holding him despite feeling like the worst boyfriend in the world.

*

The funeral is on a Thursday. It’s too warm and too muggy and everyone is cryingso much. He stands somewhere in between Harry and Robin’s sisters, hand heavy in Harry’s and feeling very much like a spare part. He knows he’s family, he does _know_ that, but he feels awkward and out of place in his sweaty suit.

It feels like Harry doesn’t particularly even want him there, is the thing; he spends the cremation and the funeral itself holding his hand and standing close, but the second he can break away he does. His hand is clammy and cold and after they separate Louis feels stupidly abandoned in a way Harry’s never made him feel before. But of course the day is not about his stupid feelings so he shuts them away and keeps working the room, trying to avoid conversation with Harry’s extended family about his job or what happened.

Even Anne and Gemma (though he can’t deny he’s not overly surprised about Gemma) seem distant.

The next month is awful.

The pair of them are more withdrawn from each other than they’ve ever been, and Louis wakes up in the morning and feels like he can’t even curl up into Harry’s side like he usually would. More often than not he wakes up to an empty bed anyway, Harry taking on shifts that last month he would never have taken on if things were a bit different. There are often nights now where Louis goes to bed alone and wakes up alone, and the only time he sees Harry is when he trudges in while he’s eating breakfast.

They barely speak then. Louis has no idea when it started, except he does, and he feels so guilty about it he could cry. When they do speak it’s usually in words of one syllable, short and to the point, and it’s awkward and tense and bland, something it’s never been between them before.

Louis aches for a cuddle, or a kiss, or even a conversation better than “good shift?” would suffice right now. But for some reason he can’t bring himself to fix it, or be the one to initiate a conversation. He doesn’t know why himself, because there are times when he’s sat in a stony silence in their living room with Harry sat opposite, and he’d sell his _soul_ to just be able to go over there and climb into his lap or even sit beside him, link their hands or kiss him or stroke his hair, but he _can’t._

He knows it’s his fault, that he’s the one who pushed Harry and his family by being the one responsible for Robin’s death, he knows. And it _hurts,_ it hurts terribly, because there’s a wedding on the horizon and every day crawls closer to it. He’s panicked, but once again he can’t bring himself to change it.

For the first time in his life, he doesn’t have anything to say.

The first two weeks are pretty much a flat out stoicism. They’re more like housemates than they are lovers, just existing under the same roof. The greatest show of affection is sometimes Harry will leave dinner on the side for Louis under the purple light of a Warming Charm, or Louis will cover Harry with a blanket if he falls asleep on the sofa. It’s pathetic, really, because this isn’t like them at all, and yet both of them seem content to live this way and deny the inevitable.

Every single day Louis wakes up to a cold bed, there’s the split second of panic that Harry’s left him.

But he hasn’t left him yet. He’s still here, even if he’s not _here._

And it’s all Louis’s fault.

At the beginning of the third week of silence, Louis can’t do it anymore. So he kisses him.

But it’s not a gentle kiss. It’s not a kiss of apology or a kiss of love. It’s a kiss with bite, teeth clacking together harshly and fingernails digging into the soft skin of Harry’s hips and fire, burning fire, that tells them this isn’t going to be sex like they’re used to.

Harry doesn’t stop him though. He doesn’t stop as Louis half-heartedly preps himself, and he doesn’t stop Louis from sitting on his cock even though he’s too tight and not open enough, and he doesn’t stop him from biting at his skin, leaving harsh marks that Louis secretly hopes hurt him.

He doesn’t want to hurt Harry, because Harry’s been hurt enough. He wants Harry to see him again, he wants Harry to _remember_ him and come back to him. He wants Harry to tell him he loves him as they fuck, to flip them over and drive into Louis until his sharp hipbones leave bruises on Louis’s thighs and his mouth leaves marks all over _his_ body.

It doesn’t come. Harry lies there, eyes squeezed shut but with strong hands holding Louis steady (he’ll take that as a win) until Louis comes with a pained cry into his fist. The grip on Louis’s hips tightens to keep him upright, but Louis forces himself to keep up the pace, fucking himself until his thighs are burning and he’s sore all over. He just needs Harry to _come…_

Harry climaxes suddenly, almost like he doesn’t want to. It takes them both by surprise and Louis could _cry_ at how good it feels to know that Harry’s still attracted to him enough to stay hard. He works Harry through and then eases himself off, but the second he’s unsheathed Harry’s bolting to the door on shaky legs. Louis hears the bathroom door slam and then the clang of the pipes as he turns the shower on, and the sting of rejection is suddenly so much realer.

That night, he falls asleep with his back to Harry, biting his bottom lip harshly in a bid not to cry. At least not until Harry has fallen asleep.

The next day, Harry comes home from work late. Louis had gotten in around half five as he usually does, made himself beans on toast for tea, then curled up on the sofa under their favourite blanket and had binge watched whatever was on some Muggle channel. He couldn’t tell you which one. But when Harry comes home he forces himself to mute it and turn around, offering him the smallest smile.

“Hi,” he says. Harry ignores him, dropping his bag onto the table and marching over there. He takes Louis’s face in his huge hands and kisses him roughly, all teeth and tongue and bite. Louis lets him, and he lets him strip off his clothes and flip him onto his belly and fuck him right there on the sofa. He pretends he’s okay with how quickly he hurries out of there after they’re done by telling himself he didn’t want to leak on their sofa, and once again he falls asleep with his back to the person he loves most in the world.

Louis doesn’t think there’s anything worse than watching the person you love fall out of love with you. And what’s even worse is he never saw it happening to him. He and Harry were solid as rocks, and now they’ve become nothing more than tight holes and sad glances when they think the other isn’t watching.

This sex game goes on for well over a fortnight. Louis makes an effort to be the one who instigates it the most, because at least then he can kid himself into thinking it’s what he wants, this is _his_ choice. It’s not. It’s absolutely not. But he’ll take what he can get.

It’s all his fault.

And that’s when his phone rings.

He nearly jumps out his fucking skin, because he _always_ forgets he has a phone. He only ever uses it to talk to his mum, and sometimes Lottie, but it usually lies forgotten on their bedside table. It would probably be dead if Zayn hadn’t fixed with it with an ever-lasting magical battery. Its vibrate rings loud and echoic throughout the whole room so Louis lunges for it, pressing the accept button before he’s even checked who it’s from.

“Lou?” his mum’s familiar voice questions and he sighs, nodding even though she can’t see him.

“Hi, Mummy,” he says quietly, gripping the receiver. He sits himself down on the edge of the bed. “You okay?”

“Hi, baby boy,” she says back. There’s a short pause and Louis swallows, because he just knows something isn’t right if his mum is calling him at the time she knows he’s usually going to work. “I miss you,” she finally says. Louis just keeps nodding.

“You too,” he says roughly, so hoarse it shocks even him. “How have you been?”

“Oh, honey,” she says gently, and Louis can hear her fumbling around with something on the other end. “I… I don’t want to be the one to tell you this but there’s been some bad news.”

Louis almost starts crying then and there because he can’t fucking deal with this right now on top of everything. “What… I mean, is it… are the girls okay? Are you okay? What happened, are you all okay?” he starts babbling, but Jay gently shushes him.

“Sweetheart,” she coos, “we’re all fine. I know you’re _not_ fine though, and I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this.”

“What’s happened?” Louis repeats.

He hears his mum take a deep breath. “It’s Troy,” she says slowly after a minute. “He… he had a heart attack at work yesterday and he…” She pauses again, swallowing past the lump in her throat. “And he died this morning, at about six-ish; I’m so sorry, baby.”

Louis tenses up, clutching the ugly piece of plastic painfully tight in his hand as his mum keeps chatting away to try and console him from miles away.

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I know he was a shitbag and all but he was your dad and I know it’s not been easy with you and him, I know. I’m sorry, baby, I’d drive down if I could or I’d… oh, I dunno, get Harry to Keyportal up to come and get me or whatever it is you use, baby, I always forget. Oh, love, oh _Lou,_ are you crying?”

“No,” Louis sniffs feebly. He’s not, not _really,_ but he feels like he could at any minute. Especially if his mum keeps cooing words to him like this, he’s going to burst like a river at its banks. He lies himself back against the pillows and sniffs again, fumbling awkwardly to tug the duvet up to his shoulders. “S’called a Portkey too.”

“You know I forget these things, darling,” his mum says, though not unkindly. “Oh, honey, I wish I could come to you.”

Louis clutches at the duvet tighter. “Yeah, I’d like that too if I’m honest. I really…” He trails off. “I really want a cuddle, Mummy.”

“Is Harry at work?” she asks gently. “Could you not send for him?”

He shakes his head even though his mum can’t see him. “He’s at work,” he sniffles. “And we’re… I… oh, I don’t even know what’s happening but it’s weird, Mummy, it’s… we’re distant and we don’t talk anymore and I’m _tired_ and I don’t…”

“Oh baby love, don’t cry,” Jay cuts in, sounding distressed herself. “Louis, love, I know things aren’t great but I need you to call him for me. I need to know you’re okay today after this news, alright?”

Louis pauses in an attempt to staunch more tears, taking a deep breath before he answers. “I, um, okay, I will. I’ll send him a Patronus now.”

“Okay, love, thank you. Can you get the day off work?”

Louis nods again, trying to mop his eyes on the pillowcase. “Yeah, yep, I’ll sort it,” he hiccups. “Love you, Mum.”

“I love you loads,” Jay says, and she sounds close to tears herself. “I’d be there in a few hours if I could but it’s Parent’s Evening tonight and I just can’t…”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Louis assures. “I’ll let you go now, thanks for, um, thanks for telling me.”

“I love you to the moon and back,” Jay says again. “Have a rest, baby love.”

Louis barely gets some words that have a semblance to goodbye out before he’s crying, sobs wracking his body almost explosively as he clings to his pillow. He cries his heart out – he cries for the father that he lost before anything could be reconciled, he cries for the family he never got to have even despite how much he adores the one he has now, and he cries because he can’t imagine anything more heart-breaking than losing the only person he’d ever want to raise a child with – until his throat feels rough and dry and his skin is blotchy and his nose is blocked and he’s too hot and too cold both at once.

After crying for longer than he thought he’d ever cry for Troy, he just stops all of a sudden. He rolls over under the duvet and reaches for his wand on the bedside table, easily casting _“Expecto Patronum”_ and watching as a beautiful silver stag shoots out the end of it in a silver haze. It takes him a minute to decide who to send it to first, but after a few moments of staring this opaque creature in the face he clears his throat.

“Hi Zayn,” he rasps, then clears his throat again painfully in the hope that it can bring his voice back down. “I’m, er, well, I mean, you’ve probably guessed I’m not coming in to work today. I…” He hesitates as he wills back a fresh wave of tears then lets out a long exhale. “Troy died, he died this morning. I need… I just need a little time for it, so could you tell Cowell for me please? Thanks, love you.”

Rolling back under the duvet, he stares blankly up at the ceiling for a bit, then nearly shits himself when Zayn’s familiar silver wolf gallops in through the slightly open window.

“Sure, Lou,” the wolf says, mouth moving in time to Zayn’s familiar and comforting voice. “Love you, yeah? Let me know if you need anything, babe, and also I’m so fucking sorry. I know that’s gotta be heart-breaking.”

Louis sniffs pathetically again and nods, watching blankly as the wolf dissipates into nothingness. He rolls over onto his stomach and tugs the duvet up higher, then doesn’t move for what feels like hours.

When he hears Harry come in the door later he almost calls for him, but stops himself when he thinks about how he must look – gross and sweaty and snotty and too much of a mess for Harry to want to cuddle. Instead, he buries himself deeper under the duvet in an attempt to hide from both Harry and the world, even though it’s probably a crap hiding place and Harry will find him if he comes upstairs.

He’s not sure how long it is until Harry does come upstairs, his huge feet slapping against the wood of their little cottage loudly as he pads into the bedroom and pulls off his scrub top. He tosses it into the laundry hamper and then pulls open one of their drawers, rummaging around for a t-shirt to wear. Louis watches him carefully from his duvet nest, taking in the slope of his back that he’s woken up staring at so often these past few weeks because they no longer sleep in a tangled pile, but like two strangers forced to share a bed.

Guilt washes over him unbearably and he’s itching to just call Harry’s name and make himself known. But what if Harry doesn’t want him like this? What if Harry doesn’t want to hear the moping of someone whose completely ruined over their stupid, useless father who he only had minimal contact with anyway, when they themselves have just lost close to them? What if Harry can’t stand to see Louis like this, not because he doesn’t love him, but because Louis can’t actually love him enough? Louis has never been able to love him enough, and if there’s one thing he feels especially guilty for over these past few weeks, it’s that no matter how much he wants him to, he will never ever be good enough for this boy when all he wants to do is run when things get tough.

He blinks back tears again, only for them to clear from his eyes in time for him to watch Harry grab one of his own sweatshirts out of the drawer and sink his face into it, breathing in Louis’s smell. Louis’s clearly not meant to see this – Harry’s gripping the jumper like a child grips their blanket and he just looks so _sad_ – and it makes his heart ache so much that he can’t bite back his sobs any longer.

Harry jumps, clutching the jumper close to his chest and whirling round before his eyes settle of the pile of duvet and misery that is his boyfriend. “Louis,” he breathes out as he catches himself and slides it over his head, “you nearly gave me a bloody heart attack, what the fuck? Why aren’t you at work?”

The words come out like Harry’s scared and they sound cutting and confused. It’s too much and Louis begins to cry properly now, hiding his head in his hands as he just starts to sob loudly and unabashedly. Everything just _hurts_ and everything is wrong, and he’s sad and pathetic and all he can think to do is just cry and cry until Harry realises he’s crying over something he never had or particularly cared for (making him a pathetic waste of space) and walks out the door.

He waits and he waits, crying openly and dragging the duvet tighter around his shoulders when suddenly there’s a pair of arms winding themselves him and the duvet both, and a nose being pressed into his messy hair.

“ _Louis,_ ” he thinks he hears Harry say again. “Baby, _baby,_ what’s the matter? What’s happened?”

The sound that leaves Louis’s mouth is something of a hysterical choking sound. He turns his tear-streaked face to look at Harry’s and the second their eyes meet he crumbles again, pressing his face into the fabric of his jumper and pawing at it like he needs it to stay grounded.

“My sweet Louis,” Harry coos sadly, bundling him in and rocking him ever so gently. “It’s okay, it’s okay, whatever it is, it’s okay, I love you…”

Louis interrupts with a particularly loud sob, pressing his face harder into Harry’s chest. He can feel lips on the top of his head again, soft and familiar, and he grips tighter at Harry’s sides for a bit because he just needs to be held.

“Sweetheart,” Harry tries again after a few minutes of clinging to each other, “sweetheart, I need to know what’s happened. Louis, I…” He trails off and Louis can feel him go stiff. “Are… is it the girls? Has something happened to one of the girls?”

Louis shakes his snotty face into Harry’s chest. “No,” he manages to croak, “not the girls. Not Mum either, before you worry.”

“Then what’s happened, darling?” Harry coaxes. “Tell me, love, please tell me.”

Louis likes to fill a room. He likes to be the centre of attention and he likes all eyes on him. Back when he was at Hogwarts, he was always the oldest too, and Harry was young and doe-eyed and would let Louis manhandle him and lead him anywhere (still would, really).

But over the years Harry grew taller and stronger and broader, filling out his shoulders and arms and his chest, becoming more of a man and less of a boy. Spending every single day by his side Louis didn’t notice it straight away, but over time he’s learned to accept that he’s shorter and stockier in stature. He’s always made up for him with his loud and brash personality and it’s worked. It’s always worked.

It’s worked at home and it’s worked in his social life, and it’s even worked in the bedroom. Yet now all Louis wants is to be small, a little boy in the arms of the person he loves most, keeping him safe and telling him that everything is going to be alright no matter what happens. He wants his Harry - he wants his lover and his best friend and his lifeline and his safety net and _Godric,_ he wants to feel whole again. Not anything like he’s been feeling for the past few weeks and certainly not like how he feels now, how little he feels he deserves it be damned.

“Troy died this morning,” he says after he’s taken several deep breaths. He feels Harry’s gasp more than he hears it. “He…” He swallows and doesn’t meet Harry’s eyes. “He had a heart attack, at work. Dead before the paramedics could get to him. Left three kids… _four,_ ” he corrects harshly, fighting back the tears again. “He left _me,_ Harry, I never… we never…”

Harry’s gentle hand pushes his sweaty fringe from his already damp eyes. Their gaze meets for a second and Louis can already feel his bottom lip trembling, the dam threatening to burst again at any moment. He tries to catch his teeth over it but before he can he’s being bundled into an almost painfully tight hug, his face pressed hard into Harry’s chest. He manages to wind his arms around Harry’s neck before he completely breaks down, sobs leaving his little body in ugly, loud burst of emotion.

Everything is just _so much,_ and Harry’s there and holding him like nothing’s changed, like they haven’t just spent the past four and a half weeks either fighting or fucking. There are warm hands stroking up his back in that way Louis just loves and soft lips pressed into his hair, and Louis cries even harder and clings to the back of Harry’s shirt like he’ll fall if he doesn’t because he doesn’t deserve any of this.

He didn’t deserve a father, clearly, and he definitely doesn’t deserve his Harry.

“I love you, I love you so much,” Harry’s mumbling above him, cradling him so close he can barely breathe. “I love you and I’m so sorry, my darling, I’m so so sorry…”

Louis cries harder at every word, shaking his head weakly into the damp fabric of Harry’s top. He wants to find the words to protest, wants even more to push Harry away because Harry’s too good for a fuck-up like him, but he doesn’t. He’s selfish and everything hurts, so he clings and he just shakes his head, inevitably smearing more snot and tears all over him but not able to actually care.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” Harry whispers before pressing another kiss into Louis’s forehead. “You’re so strong, Lou, so brave, you’re gonna get through this and I love you…”

“No,” Louis manages to croak weakly, and Harry shuts up immediately. “No, Harry, I…”

“What, Lou?” Harry asks slowly. “No, you’re not brave, or…?”

“I’m not any of those things,” Louis says miserably, “and I don’t deserve to hear them either.”

Harry looks confused but doesn’t say anything and cuddles him in again anyway; gently manhandling them so he’s got his back resting against the pillows and Louis is cradled into his chest like an infant. His hands curl into the front of Harry’s jumper and he turns his face up at Harry’s gentle coaxing, not offering any explanation as Harry carefully mops his snotty face with the cuff of his jumper sleeve. He can’t meet his eyes because he knows if he does he’ll cry again so just gazes uncaringly at the ceiling, willing the fresh tears that are threatening to spill to die down.

“Sweetheart,” Harry murmurs after he’s ruched his sleeve back up, ever so carefully bringing his hand up to Louis’s face and stroking fingers down his cheek. Sweetheart is Louis’s absolute favourite name and he knows it, so he bites down even harder on his bottom lip to keep from letting out another sob. “Sweetheart, please look at me.”

Reluctantly he does, letting Harry’s warm and familiar hand sink into his cheek and cradle his face. Harry’s concerned eyes don’t leave his face and Louis feels so, _so_ little. “Harry…”

“I’m so in love with you,” Harry says earnestly, and Louis’s bottom lip might be bleeding from how hard he’s biting it. “And I’m sorry we’ve been weird and off with each other and I’m sorry that you didn’t feel like you could call me right away about this because I would have come straight home, I’m so sorry…”

“What?” Louis rasps, eyes meeting Harry’s at long last. “What, no, it wasn’t that. It wasn’t you, I…”

Harry cuts him off with a sad laugh and Louis panics for a split second that he’s made his beautiful boy cry on top of all of this. “Louis,” he says dejectedly, stroking his thumb across his wet cheek, “if this had been a month ago you would have sent me a Patronus without even thinking.” He takes a deep breath and Louis clings to him tighter as his whole body is rocked by it. “I love you, Louis, I love you and I’m sorry if this is shitty of me to ask given the timing but I kind of really need you to tell me you love me too.”

Louis turns his head and hides it in Harry’s chest again, clutching so hard at his jumper that he’s probably snagging skin. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he sobs on repeat, letting the tears fall freely again because he’s weak and he’s mortified and he’s lost his father but he’d happily lose him a hundred more times if it meant he’d never have to hear Harry sound that sad again. “I love you, Harry, I love you and I would never hurt you, _never,_ I love you, I’m sorry.”

“ _Louis,_ ” Harry says fiercely, pulling him into an even tighter embrace and Louis’s covered in snot and he’s crying like he hasn’t cried in years but he can’t risk Harry letting him go for even a second so he grips his arms around his back and weeps harder, “Louis, my sweet Louis, you’re okay and I love you, I really do, I love you so much.”

“I don’t deserve it,” Louis manages to hiccup again with a shake of his head. “I’ve been a shit to you and I don’t deserve this.”

“Louis, you’re my fucking fiancé,” Harry tells him sternly, wiping at his eyes again. “Your biological dad might have been a complete cock, and I might have hated him because everything he did made you so unhappy but you’re fully within your rights to cry now he’s passed and I’m going to hold you until you don’t want me to anymore.”

“Which is still something I don’t deserve,” Louis repeats petulantly. “I’ve been a shitty fiancé back to you.”

“That doesn’t matter right now,” Harry assures, but it still makes Louis feel like shit because he’s not denying it. “We’ve both had our ups and downs this past month; it’s been shitty for us both.”

“But I’ve been crap!” Louis cries, scrabbling clumsily to sit up. He sits kind of awkwardly in the dip of Harry’s crossed legs and cups both his cheeks in his sticky palms. “I wasn’t there for you when your stepdad was fucking murdered and it was my fault and now someone I don’t even _like_ dies and I’m…”

 _“Don’t,_ ” Harry growls, hands grabbing at Louis’s little wrists and squeezing tightly. “Do not try and downplay what you’re going through because you think it shouldn’t matter. _Of course_ it matters, Louis, it’s not…”

“Harry, your stepdad died too,” Louis wails, and okay, they’re doing it this way. “Your stepdad died and it was so much worse than whatever this is, and I wasn’t there for you!”

“No, you weren’t,” Harry admits quietly. Louis chokes out another sob. “I can’t even lie, Lou, you’ve been shitty. I needed you and you retreated off… _somewhere,_ I don’t even know what happened.”

“I’m sorry,” Louis says weakly. “I know, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t…”

“Couldn’t what, Louis?” Harry asks, and he sounds angry all of a sudden. Not that Louis would deny for a second that he doesn’t have the right to be. “You couldn’t be there when I was going through some of the hardest shit I’ve ever gone through? You couldn’t be the supportive and caring boyfriend you have _always_ been when I needed you most? What happened, Louis? You… I never, _ever_ thought of all the things I would lose then I would potentially be losing you at the same time, it’s not _fair._ ”

“You’re not losing me,” Louis jumps in to say, swallowing heavily before he says the words he never ever thought he’d find himself saying, “unless… unless you think I’ve been such a shit that you can’t forgive me and you want to leave yourself because I’d understand…”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Harry snaps. Louis’s mouth clamps shut and he throws his hand over it to stifle another sob. “I’m not fucking leaving you, you absolute _moron._ We are so much more than one shitty period in our relationship, but my _Godric,_ Louis, it’s been really horrible.”

“I’m sorry,” Louis just repeats weakly. He hesitates for a second but wraps his arms around Harry’s neck and Harry draws him closer. He tucks his face into Harry’s neck and takes a deep breath. “I thought you were angry at me, and I know that’s no excuse now but…”

“I was angry with you,” Harry says plainly. “I was fucking furious with you, Louis. You didn’t do _anything._ ”

“I thought you blamed me!” Louis cries back. “I thought all of you thought Robin’s death was my fault and I…”

“What the _fuck?”_ Harry shrills, pulling back and staring at Louis so intently, so disbelievingly that Louis has to fight every instinct he has to squirm away. “You thought I thought it was your fault?”

“It was my fault, kinda,” Louis mumbles. “It was clearly a move to get at me and it _hurts,_ Harry, but it’s my fault and I know it, and so does Gemma and your mum…”

Harry cuts him off with some kind of hysterical humourless laugh. “You really thought that I’d blame you?”

“You can’t possibly not,” Louis says like it’s a fact. “It’s my job and I’m so heavily involved…”

“You thought I’d blame you for the murder of my stepdad who was killed by a Dark Wizard that you’re trying to catch to protect the general public as you do the job that you’ve wanted to do since before I even knew you and you worked your arse off to get and perfect?” Harry spells out, and when he says it like that Louis’s open mouth snaps shut again. “You thought I’d blame you for that?”

“Because they wanted to get at me!” Louis says helplessly. “And obviously they learned somehow that the best way to get at me is to hurt you!”

“And they hurt us both, clearly,” Harry sniffs. A tear spills onto his cheek and Louis hurries to wipe it away. “Because I’d never blame you, never _ever,_ not for that. But you let yourself think I did and that’s what hurt the most. Because you pushed me away when I needed you closer than I’ve ever needed you before. That’s how they wanted to hurt us.”

“Shit,” Louis whimpers, pulling Harry close to him as his own dam breaks and the tears start to fall. “Harry, Harry, I didn’t… I didn’t _know._ ”

“No, I know,” Harry weeps, nuzzling his own face into Louis’s shoulders. Louis cards his hands through Harry’s matted curls and gives him a few moments to get his breathing back to normal. “I know, but, like, Louis, you really hurt me. Like… like, the one thing we’ve always been good at between us is communication. We’re so good at it, we _always_ know if the other isn’t happy or comfortable but this… it just went out the window this past month.”

“I’m so sorry,” Louis says for what feels like the thousandth time. “I don’t know how to tell you I’m sorry enough, I love you so fucking much…”

“I know, I know that,” Harry says. He pulls back and scrubs a hand over his face. “I know you love me and you know I love you. I know we’ll always have that.”

“Always, _always,_ darling,” Louis says, pressing his nose into Harry’s cheek and kissing the corner of his mouth lightly. “I’m so sorry…”

“I know you’re bloody sorry,” Harry cuts him, shaking his head. Louis leans back again and Harry cups his face, looking him dead in the eye. “Just promise me you’ll come back to me.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Louis says, nodding so hard his fringe tumbles into his eyes again. “I can’t… I can’t do a month like that again, I can’t lose you…”

“Then don’t give yourself a reason to,” Harry says snappily. He wipes at his face again and coughs into the back of his hand. “We’re good at communication, aren’t we?” Louis nods. “Okay, let me start.” He clears his throat again and puts his arms back around Louis. “You are not to blame for Robin’s death, do you understand? Because I don’t think that you do.”

Louis doesn’t look at him, focusing his attention on the little freckle on Harry’s chest instead. “You promise you don’t think it’s my fault?” he questions after a few moments of quiet. “Because I would understand if you did.”

“I firmly do not believe it was your fault,” Harry says. He shrugs a little. “I don’t know how else I can say. It’s not your fault. It was a murder and the fault lies at the hands of whoever that guy is. And I know you’ll catch him, because it’s just made it personal and you’re brilliant and you’re going to catch him and make him pay for what he did.”

“You have too much faith in me,” Louis says, but he finally cracks a shy smile as he says it. Harry offers a little smile in return and Louis traces his thumb lightly over Harry’s bottom lip. He sighs. “But thank you. I think… I think I really needed to hear that.”

“Of course,” Harry smiles. He leans forward and kisses Louis’s forehead again. “And _I’m_ sorry I didn’t make that clear earlier.”

“Thank you,” Louis says quietly. “I’m sorry I used sex as a weapon and made you feel like I’d pushed you away.”

“Thank you,” Harry echoes. “Please don’t do it again. Please come to me first and we can talk and…”

Louis cuts him off with a kiss. It’s gentle and soft and everything it feels like they’ve both needed for over a month, and Harry sighs into it gratefully, a hand running up and down Louis’s back as their lips move together in that familiar way that for so many reasons became so foreign.

“Don’t leave me again,” he says as they pull apart. Louis shakes his head frantically and Harry captures his lips again, parting Louis’s mouth open and sucking on his tongue. Louis practically melts against his chest, hands coming up to cup Harry’s face and kiss him harder. He’s reluctant when it breaks, going to chase Harry’s lips and feel more of this wonderful closeness he’s denied himself of for so long but Harry carefully leans back, two fingers going to press against Louis’s pouting lips. “We’re still us, yeah?”

“Still us,” Louis repeats, nuzzling his cheek into Harry’s hand. “Never gonna let you go.”

“I love you,” Harry says, and he knocks their foreheads together and kisses him one more time. “Communicate with me, yeah?”

“I love you too,” Louis tells him. He brings his hand up and covers Harry’s own on his cheek, his eyes darting down and then up again. “If… if we’re communicating can I ask what might be a gross question?”

“Of course,” Harry says quickly. “How is it gross?”

“Just, like…” Louis cuts himself off and finds himself squirming uncomfortably. “Do… I mean, I just… is…?”

“Louis?”

“Does your mum hate me?” Louis blurts. “I mean, like, is… does she think it’s my fault too? Because I wouldn’t blame her, I mean…”

“Louis,” Harry says again, and he sounds almost distraught. “Louis, baby, nobody hates you. Least of all my mum, I can assure you of that.”

“But I…”

“But nothing,” Harry says, running his knuckles over Louis’s cheek. “You’re not responsible, do you hear me?”

“But Gemma made it clear…”

“Gemma was angry,” Harry cuts in gently. “She had a right to be angry, but not at you. But that’s how she channels her sadness, through getting mad. When Mum and Dad told us they were splitting up she punched a hole through my bedroom door, you know. She can pack a punch, I’ve gotta hand it to her.”

Louis offers a sad chuckle as he wipes at his eyes again. “Bless her.”

“Mum doesn’t hate you,” Harry says again, squeezing Louis’s wrist. “She doesn’t blame you either. None of us do. We’re angry that it happened because it was fucking premeditated murder, Louis. You didn’t do anything, I swear.”

“Okay,” Louis says after a slow couple of minutes of silence. “Okay, if… if you’re sure.”

“So sure, baby,” Harry says. He kisses the top of Louis’s head. “I wouldn’t lie to you, and especially not about this, I promise.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” Louis murmurs. “I know, I trust you.” He tilts his head and Harry kisses him ever so carefully, like he might break. He could cry with how much he adores him. “And are you… I mean, are you okay? I mean, not okay, but, like coping?”

Harry lets out a long breath. “I’ll be okay,” he says with a tight smile. “I mean, I’m more… it’s more Mum I’m concerned about but she’s doing okay. Not okay, well, she’s not great but she’s…”

“She’s a bloody amazing woman,” Louis says honestly, locking both their hands together and bringing them to his lap. “She’s one of the strongest, bravest people I’ve ever known.”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees. “You should… she’d like you to come over with me some time, I think.” He toys with Louis’s fingers a little before he says, “I’d really like that.”

“Of course I’ll come with you,” Louis says. “You should have aske… oh.”

“I needed you,” Harry mumbles after a second, voice strained. “I needed my fucking fiancé to be there for me and I don’t think I should have had to ask.”

“You shouldn’t have,” Louis agrees sadly as he squeezes Harry’s hands supportively. “I don’t know where I’ve been these past few weeks but I’m sorry and I’m here now.”

“I… I don’t forgive you just yet,” Harry admits quietly, still toying with Louis’s fingers. Louis hangs his head. “But I love you and we need each other too much right now. It’s gonna get better, isn’t it?”

“So much better,” Louis croaks, a hint of begging in his voice. “I love you so much. I’ll do anything to make this better, I promise.”

“Come with me next time I visit Mum,” Harry says, his voice just edging on pleading. “And just… just fucking _be here,_ Louis. I’ve been losing my fucking mind, sweetheart, I can’t… I mean, these past few weeks we’ve never been further apart and it’s been the worst thing on top of everything that’s happened.”

Louis wants to cry again. “You’re my best friend,” he manages to croak out instead. “You’re my best friend and you’re the love of my fucking love and I’ll do anything to make you happy, you know I will. I’ll make sure we go back to being _us,_ and I’ll hold you and kiss you properly again and make you happy, I just want you to be happy…”

“Baby, don’t cry again,” Harry sniffs as he catches some of Louis’s stray tears with his thumb, “I believe you, yeah? I don’t want you to cry.”

“I’m sorry,” Louis says again weakly, in case Harry hasn’t heard it enough. He deserves a thousand and one more apologies, really. “It’s been a gross day.”

“I can imagine,” Harry says. He smiles softly as he brushes Louis’s fringe from his face once again, and it’s a smile Louis hasn’t seen in so long. It makes him feel lighter, almost. “Do you want to shower and I’ll make us some supper?” Louis nods. “Cool. Then we can just curl up on the sofa and watch the television, or come to bed early and just chat or something.”

“I’d really like that,” Louis concedes, tilting his head for another kiss. “I want to make it okay.”

“It will be okay,” Harry assures, pressing another kiss into Louis’s forehead. “We just need to be us again. So let’s do Harry and Louis things. Complain about my hair getting too long and then tell me you love in me in the same sentence.”

Louis lets out a wet laugh and reaches up to tangle his hand in Harry’s unruly curls. “Your hair is beautiful, and so are you,” he says, lips curling up into a bright smile when Harry beams back at him. “Christ, Harry, I just… I fucking love you. I don’t know what happened but I’m never letting it happen again, I swear to you.”

“I believe you,” Harry promises. He kisses Louis again, then carefully stretches out his legs before he shuffles off the bed. “Any dinner preferences, love?”

Louis shakes his head. “I don’t mind. Make whatever you want. Do we need to go shopping, actually?”

Harry snorts. “Probably. We’ve been terrible at practicing being a married couple this month.”

“We have plenty of time to make up for it though, yeah?” Louis asks. Harry nods.

“Of course we do,” he says, and he goes back over to Louis and wraps him in another hug. “I’ll see you in a few, alright?”

Letting out a long exhale, Louis eventually nods and extracts himself from Harry’s comforting hold. “Yeah, yeah, love. See you downstairs?”

Harry nods and then disappears out their bedroom door. He hears the familiar clip-clop of his feet down their wooden stairs and then the familiar sound of him cooing at the cat, and for the first time in weeks it doesn’t make Louis feel on edge. He hadn’t even realised he’d started to associate the sounds with panic, but he definitely had – a Harry coming home could have been a Harry coming home to leave him, couldn’t it? God, he feels so _daft_ now, because Harry is his one sure thing and it’s probably not even crossed his mind that Louis thought he was leaving, but it’s going to be okay. He’s going to be okay.

They are going to be okay.

He showers for a long while, letting the hot water soothe over his tight skin and tired bones. He takes his time with washing his hair and cleaning himself up, eager to make himself look soft and fluffy and just what Harry loves him to be on their lazy days, however silly that may seem. Even after all the time they’ve had sleeping far apart from each other in bed and avoiding meeting each other’s eyes in their own living room, now he’s held him again he doesn’t want to be out of his arms for longer than possible. He wants Harry and he wants to make Harry happy, so he steps out the shower and hurries to dry his hair and dress himself in a pair of joggers and one of Harry’s plain t-shirts.

A quick tease of his hair and then he heads out onto the landing, only to pause at the sound of hushed voices talking away downstairs. He raises his brows and slowly hops down the first couple of stairs, trying to peer into the kitchen without giving himself away. It’s futile – whoever Harry’s with must be in the kitchen rather than the living room – so he decides to just bite the bullet and accept he might not have Harry to himself like he’d been hoping for.

“Love?” he calls over the sound of his bare feet slapping down the stairs. “Harry?”

“In here, Louis,” Harry shouts back, appearing in the doorway suddenly. He smiles and holds his arm out for Louis to slide under, tugging him close. Louis goes obediently, arms wrapping around Harry’s middle and pressing his face into Harry’s warm chest. He’d almost forgotten that someone else is there until Harry mumbles a, “please don’t be annoyed” into his hair, so when he looks up and sees Anne standing in front of him he almost jumps. She looks thinner than before, dressed in a ratty looking jumper and paint-stained jeans rather than her usual glamorous attire, and there are dark circles under her eyes like she hasn’t been sleeping all that well. Louis feels instantly guilty – she could still be blaming him, regardless of what Harry’s said – but offers her what he hopes is a welcoming grin.

“I… Anne, hi,” he stutters, dropping one of his arms from around Harry’s waist and tucking into his side instead.

“Louis, darling,” she says brightly, but it’s in a careful motherly tone that makes Louis’s heart ache a little. She steps out of the kitchen area and Louis somewhat reluctantly steps out of Harry’s hold to meet her halfway. “Harry told me what happened and I Floo’d over here straight away, I hope you don’t mind.”

Louis shakes his head. His fingers are itching to be back with Harry already, however pathetic that may be, and he’s so grateful when he feels his body step up behind him and he slides his hand onto the small of Louis’s back.

“I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am,” she says with a smile, taking another step forward and reaching for his hands. “Harry told me your mum can’t be here, can’t leave the girls, but I thought you might need a parent so I came.” She swings his hands a little so he looks up at her. His bottom lip is already trapped between his teeth because he already knows he’s going to cry again. “I know… I know it’s not been easy, with your dad. Harry’s never exactly used the fondest of words when talking about him.”

“He wasn’t a nice guy,” Louis manages to croak, shaking his head. “He was… he was quite terrible, really.”

“But he was your dad, I know,” Anne says kindly. She runs a hand down his quivering face. “Oh, honey, come here.”

Louis sinks into her arms and Anne kisses at his hair, murmuring kind words that he doesn’t feel he deserves to hear. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, willing himself not to cry again, and lets himself be held. Anne smells like she always has – of perfume and sugar and that unmistakeable smell of home that Louis’s always loved about going to their house – and it’s so comforting and motherly that Louis doesn’t know what to do or say.

“I love you very much, Louis,” Anne says, pulling back gently and cupping his face. “You’re my son, and I love you, yeah?” Louis just blinks. “You _are,_ darling, don’t give me that look. You’re an extension of my own boy, and as such you’re my son as well.”

“I… but…” Louis tries to stammer, but Anne just shakes her head and pats his cheek.

“No buts, sunshine,” she says with a kind smile. “Bless your heart, you’ve not had it easy. I don’t want you to feel like I’m not here for you a hundred percent, same with Harry. We’re _family._ ”

Louis lets out a long exhale, nodding slowly and pressing his lips together. “Thank… thank you,” he says quietly. “I needed to hear that. I’m glad you’re here, Anne.”

“Anything for either of you,” she smiles, pulling Louis in for another hug. She kisses his cheeks as she pulls back. “Now then, beautiful boys, I have a casserole in the oven at home and I’m not quite out of the habit of making enough for more than one.” She’s still smiling as she says it but Louis’s heart breaks for her and he tightens his grip on her hand.  “Can I tempt you?”

Louis nods. “That… that would be lovely, Anne. I mean, if you don’t mind?”

Anne tuts. “Do I mind? You two _always_ need feeding up, in my opinion. Need more meat on your bones!” She pats Louis’s cheek and steps back towards the fireplace. “I’ll be back in a few, yeah? Haz, love, will you set the table for me?” Harry nods as he steps back into Louis’s space and wraps his arms around his shoulders. “Good boy. Don’t forget place mats!”

She steps back into the fire, calls out “Eight The Redferns,” then disappears in a puff of green. Louis can’t help but let out another long stuttering sigh and Harry kisses the top of his head several times.

He doesn’t say anything but he turns in Harry’s arms and wraps his own around Harry’s soft middle, resting his forehead on his chest. Harry holds him tight, moving a hand to the back of his neck to gently play with the hair there, and Louis sighs like a content kitten.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Harry questions, fingernails scratching at Louis’s scalp, “and see? She doesn’t hate you, Louis. You’re her son.”

 “I’m her son,” Louis mumbles into the fabric of his jumper. “God, Harry, I…”

Harry shushes him gently, rocking him ever so slightly in his arms as Louis fights back the tears again. “You’re her son,” Harry says again, and Louis thinks he can feel Harry’s lips curling into a smile on the top of his head. “You’re so loved through and through, baby.”

“You the most though,” Louis says in a small voice, but he’s honestly not sure if he’s asking him or telling him. “I love you the most.”

“You too,” Harry whispers. He tilts Louis’s chin up with his fingers and kisses him ever so softly. “I’ll always love you the most.”

“Even though I’m a terrible piece of shit who runs away from his problems?” Louis dares to ask, tone dry.

Harry snorts. “Even then. I mean, I don’t think I could have dealt with it forever, but I don’t have to, do I?”

Louis hurries to shake his head. “No, no, fuck, no, I won’t… I won’t, shit, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m only teasing, Lou, I know you won’t,” Harry says with a sad smile. “It’s just a blip. Like, all couples have blips, don’t they?”

Louis buries his face back into Harry’s t-shirt. “We don’t,” he replies almost petulantly. “That’s for other couples that aren’t as good as being a couple as us.”

“We are _really_ good at being a couple, aren’t we?” Harry says cheekily. “Nine out of ten on a good week, I’d say. I mean, we’ve dropped a bit, but we’ll get there again.”

“Excuse you,” Louis squawks, head snapping up at speed. “Why only nine out of ten on a good week? We are _fantastic,_ Harold. We have chemistry, we have amazing sex, we have this whole domesticity thing going on that everyone’s jealous of.” Harry just smiles at him fondly. “What could possibly make us any better than that, Styles, huh?”

Harry just kisses him, sliding his hands up to cup Louis’s cheeks. Louis’s vague noise of protest is drowned out by Harry’s mouth, not that he’s ever going to complain about this, and can’t help as he smiles back into the kiss. It’s soft and passionate and loving and everything Louis wants to feel from Harry’s lips for the rest of his life. He’ll settle for this now though, hands running up and down Harry’s sides as he presses their chests closer together.

A puff of green and a loud thud snap them apart. Louis clings to the front of Harry’s shirt, not sure why he’s so jumpy at the sound of something he’s heard hundreds of times before, but Harry curls an arm around him and kisses the top of his head. Anne steps out of the fireplace, a casserole dish in hand that’s glowing ever so slightly purple - a Cooling Charm, Louis suspects – and chuckles and shakes her head at the two of them.

“Completely rubbish, the pair of you,” she tells them as she marches into the kitchen and points her wand at the oven. “Didn’t set the table, didn’t even turn the damn oven on. Does your mother need to do everything for you?”

“Sorry, Mum,” Harry says. He kisses Louis’s hair again before he breaks away from his side and follows her into the kitchen. “What would we all like to drink?”

“Squash, please,” Anne says brightly.

“Yeah, me too,” Louis says, shuffling into the kitchen after them and using extreme self-control not to reach for Harry again. “Can I do anything, Haz?”

“Um, yeah, can you grab cutlery and stuff?” Harry says, smiling over to him from the sink. “Mum, how much longer does it need to cook?”

“Not long,” Anne muses. “I’d say I’ll put it in for another half hour or so. There’s no rush, Louis love.”

Louis picks the cutlery out of the drawer anyway, trotting back over to the dining table and setting three places. He straightens out the salt and pepper in the centre, then grabs placemats and napkins from their sideboard and sets them out too. It’s probably too warm to light candles, what with it being July and all, but he does so anyway. And he does feel a bit daft, because they’ve had Anne round for dinner more times than he can count and yet now he feels on eggshells, like nothing he’s doing is quite right.

Trying not to overthink it too much, he trots back into the kitchen where he’s welcomed with the sight of Harry and Anne locked in a tight embrace. “Oh,” he says without even realising he’s said it, taking a step back towards the doorway. Anne looks up and shakes her head.

“Louis, come back here and join,” she demands, unwinding one arm from around her son so Louis can fall into the hug. He does so, easily and gratefully. “I’ve missed you boys so much,” she says, slightly muffled by their bodies pressed so close. “You’re both… so wonderful… I’m… so… proud…” she says in between smacking kisses to their heads. She pulls back and cups Harry’s face as she does so. “You both look so tired, darlings. Have you been sleeping?”

“Um,” Harry says, stealing an awkward glance at Louis. Louis immediately feels ashamed. “It’s… um, it’s not been a good few weeks, has it?”

Anne presses her lips together and holds up her hands. “Say no more,” is all she says. “I can see you two have some things you need to iron out, things that are none of my business.”

Louis just keeps staring at the floor and really wishes in that moment that it would swallow him up. He suddenly feels an arm snake around his back and pull him closer, and he clings to the familiar warmth of the body next to him. “Hey,” he hears Harry say. “It’s okay, love.”

Louis nods into his chest, wrapping his arms around Harry’s middle and staying pressed there while Anne potters about and changes the subject to Gemma and Jamie’s latest breakup and make-up. He nods along and contributes the odd few words, but really he’s more focused on the wonderful homely smells of cooking pork and Anne’s perfume and _Harry,_ along with the more distant sounds of Harry’s heartbeat and his beautiful throaty laugh _._ Fingertips rub smoothly over the skin of his hip, and despite the horrible day, he feels more at peace now than he has in weeks.

The rest of the evening passes too fast for Louis’s liking. The food is stodgy and delicious, and Anne and Harry even manage to coax a few laughs out of him. It seems all too soon that Anne is gathering up her things and getting ready to leave, but not before she’s pulled Louis into another long tight squeeze, hand stroking comfortingly up his back.

“You’re very special to me,” she whispers in his ear. “I love you like my own, you know, and once again I’m so sorry for your loss, sweetheart. You’re a good lad, and you are so loved, you know that?”

“I…” Louis stammers, then nods before more tears manage to fall. “I love you so much, Anne. Your whole family means the world to me.”

“Oh, Louis,” Anne says, and hugs him even tighter. “You’re going to be okay, yeah? Take tomorrow off – Harry’s already promised me he’ll do the same – and just, please, for the sake of your mother-in-law, sort out whatever fight you’ve been having.” She pulls back and cups his face. “I know you’ve both not had an easy few weeks – well, none of us have – but if you two aren’t flouncing through life as the most loved-up couple about then that makes it even more unbalanced, as far as I’m concerned.”

Louis can’t help but laugh at that. “I will, I promise. I want… I love him so much, I don’t want…”

“You don’t have to justify anything to me, sweetheart," Anne interrupts him gently. “I know you love him. He loves you the same, so fix it.”

“Consider it done,” Louis promises, stepping out of her arms just in time for Harry to trundle in holding Anne’s freshly washed casserole dish. “Thank you for the lovely meal.”

“You’re welcome for the lovely meal,” Anne smiles. “It’s just so lovely to cook for people again.”

“Mum…” Harry starts, but Anne shakes her head.

“No feeling sorry for me, Harry Edward Styles,” she commands sternly. “Come and give your old mum a hug and let me get on my way.” She pretends to roll her eyes and Louis grins widely. “Honestly, he’s always been a bugger, even at twenty-two. He should know better by now.”

“You’re telling me,” Louis smiles back.

“Heeeey,” Harry protests, pouting. “I do not need this from you two. You’re meant to be my favourite people ever, stop ganging up on me.”

“Would never do that to you, darling,” Louis giggles, and it’s almost like the three of them are back to their old selves, bantering and laughing easily with each other. “Do you need me to do the rest of the washing up?”

“No, I’ve Charmed it,” Harry says, kissing his mum on the top of her head. “I just want to go to bed if I’m honest.”

“At least wait until your mother is out of earshot,” Anne grimaces. “I’ll definitely be on my way now. Night boys, love you both.”

“Love you,” Louis echoes, holding out his hand for Harry to take as they watch Anne disappear into the fireplace. Once she’s gone, Harry quickly closes off their Floo Network and then turns to Louis taking his other hand and swinging them lightly.

“Can we go upstairs?” he asks Louis, his eyes wide and questioning. Louis nods, keeping their fingers laced even as Harry casts the rest of the lights in the house off, and they head to their bedroom. Momentarily panicked by the thought that they’re going back into the room where Louis’s been having his all day pity party and as a result their bed is probably a bit disgusting, Louis forgets it all when Harry pushes open the door.

The sheets have been changed and there are candles burning on the windowsill so the whole room smells like fresh linen and lavender. He’s momentarily floored by it all, because even after all this time Harry makes him feel so loved and so cherished, yet at the same time he’s not sure how to get rid of the niggling doubt that tells him he doesn’t deserve this and never will.

“Changed the sheets while you were talking to Mum,” Harry explains when Louis doesn’t say anything. “Thought it would do us both some good.”

“I…” Louis starts to rasp, but before he gets his words out he’s engulfed in the tightest hug, arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders and keeping him anchored to Harry’s taller body. His arms snake around Harry’s middle and he sighs into it, letting himself hold and be held for what is probably only minutes but feels like decades.

Harry smells like dish soap and herbs and sweat and his cologne, and his grip feels like home. Louis wants to tilt his head up and look at him but he also adamantly refuses to break the cuddle, so he resigns himself to get breathing in the wonderful smell of home until his legs give way or Harry breaks it himself. He takes several deep breathes, nose burrowing itself into the soft fabric of Harry’s top, when he feels Harry’s own nose press deep into his hair as Harry takes a giant sniff.

“Are you smelling me?” Louis asks, voice muffled by shoulder. Harry snorts, ugly and beautiful at the same time.

“Like you haven’t been smelling me for the past few minutes,” he says dryly. There’s a pause. “You smell really good. You smell like…”

“Home?” Louis asks, smiling even though Harry can’t see him. “Because that’s what you smell like. Home.”

“You smell like home,” Harry echoes on an exhale, and all of a sudden his voice sounds choked with emotion and thick with tears. “You _are_ home, Lou. You’re my favourite place.”

Louis pulls back at that, his own eyes starting to become wet now, and he barely gives Harry any time to prepare himself before he’s pushing himself up and kissing him, hands tugging on the collar of his shirt. Harry kisses back hungrily but it’s not sexual – it’s them reconnecting and holding and _loving_ after so many weeks of disconnecting and clinging and resenting. Louis could kiss him like this forever, but a sudden wetness on his cheeks makes him pull back in alarm.

“Harry?”

“I’m sorry,” Harry whimpers, collecting his tears with his hand and sniffing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just… I fucking needed this, Louis. I miss you so much.”

“I know, baby,” Louis says, clinging to him tighter. “I know, I’m sorry too, I’m so sorry.”

He takes a few steps back, still clinging, and coaxes Harry onto the bed with him. They topple forward rather gracelessly but they never stop touching, Louis’s legs wrapping around Harry’s waist and locking over his bum. Their foreheads rest together and they just lie like that, breathing in each other’s air, until Louis mumbles, “take off your clothes.”

Harry pulls himself up, clearly taken aback. “What?” he questions, voice low. “Lou, like… I don’t…”

Louis smiles sadly. “Not for sex, love. I think we both know sex isn’t on the cards tonight. No, look, I just…” He sighs, cupping Harry’s face gently and coaxing him down for a quick kiss, “I think we need to reconnect a bit, yeah? Like your mum said.” He smiles sadly. “The last time we fucked I didn’t even take off my trousers. You didn’t even take yours either. That’s not… that’s not who we are, that’s not how we are as a couple.” He kisses him again. “I wanna touch you like I’ve always been able to touch you.”

Harry still looks hesitant but nods after a few seconds. “I think I know what you mean.” His eyes flit up and down Louis’s face, like he doesn’t want to look him in the eye. “I didn’t even wanna get naked when we had sex like that. It wasn’t… you’re right, it wasn’t what we do and I just felt…”

“Used and hurt?” Louis chips in, because he knows, dammit, he felt the exact same. “I know, darling, me too.” Harry doesn’t acknowledge what he’s said, just looks painfully sad. Louis _hates_ it, so shuffles a little higher up the bed so he’s resting against the pillows. He fingers the hem of his shirt for a moment, nervous in a way he’s never been around Harry, and hurriedly peels it off himself before he can dwell. He drops it onto the floor, almost expecting Harry to chastise him for it in a playful way, but he doesn’t. Instead Harry just mirrors him, the smooth plains of his chest and the soft pudge of his stomach so painfully familiar. Louis wants to touch but doesn’t quite know if he’s allowed yet.

“Trousers?” Harry asks, sounding timid and maybe self-conscious, just like how Louis feels. Louis nods, hands going to the waistband of his joggers but he doesn’t actually make a move to pull them down, and neither does Harry.

“I…”

“If you don’t wanna do this, why did you suggest it?” Harry huffs, cutting him off in a voice laced with hurt and panic. “This is so…”

“Hey, hey,” Louis coaxes. “Please don’t… don’t be mad at me. I want this, I really want this, but I don’t… I don’t want to push you or me or…”

“At the same time, then,” Harry interrupts, eyes fixed and focused. “I’ll do it but only if we’re in this together.” His body slumps forward a bit, and Louis really wants to run a soothing hand up his chest, or pat his hip, but he refrains still. “I’m sorry, Lou, everything is just so much, and for some reason the idea of being naked right now is weird, but you’re right. We need to get over this, so. I’m game.” He snorts. “I’m always bloody game when it comes to you.”

Louis grins softly and hurries to shove his joggers down in one swift movement. They catch on his feet and he has to flail a bit to kick them off, but eventually they tumble off the end of the bed, landing in a crumpled heap. Harry’s smile is small but it’s there, and only a few seconds later his jeans and boxers follow suit. He’s really beautiful, long and lithe, milky skin and downy hair and soft pockets of fat intermingled with toned muscle. Louis beams up at him and Harry easily connects their mouths, noses bumping and tongues meeting.

They kiss for a few minutes, and then Harry breaks it to lie on his side next to Louis, who obediently rolls over so they’re face to face. It’s easier like this, he thinks, because this way the focus isn’t on them being naked but more on them being close, in a way that feels personal and familiar and just for the two of them.

Harry’s hand comes up and he gently starts running his knuckles up and down Louis’s arm. It’s feather light, so so gentle, but as far as Louis’s concerned he hasn’t had anything like this in weeks. It’s intimate and wonderful, and he’s practically purring by the time Harry’s run his hands up and down only a few times. Harry smiles softly and Louis shuffles forward a bit, so they’re almost chest to chest and their legs are tangled.

“You’re so warm,” Louis says on an exhale, sighing and tilting his head forward a little more so he can press his mouth onto Harry’s cheek. “And beautiful. Do you know how beautiful you are?”

“You haven’t told me in a while,” Harry says, and despite the smile his voice is small and nervous. “I’ve… I don’t wanna sound conceited but I have missed hearing it.”

“I’ll never stop thinking you’re the most beautiful boy in the world,” Louis promises, and he kisses Harry’s cheek, his nose, his eyelids. “You’re so beautiful, inside and out, and I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” Harry says, and Louis can’t stop his breath from hitching at that because Harry hasn’t acknowledged that yet. “I know you are, I know.”

“Harry…” he says, voice coming out a bit strangled. “Christ, Harry…”

“I don’t…” Harry starts, and his hand stills on Louis’s arm and he sighs again, “I want you to stop saying sorry, Lou. I wanna talk and sort it out and be happy again but, like, I don’t want the focus to be on you constantly apologising. I know you’re sorry.”

It’s been easy enough to forget, what with the horrible day he’s had, that he’s not the only one going through unbearable hurt. He’s hurt Harry over such a long period of time, yet it’s Harry whose been the one to step up and fix it before Louis was even aware how broken it was. And Harry does have a point. He knows he’s sorry, and Harry knows him better than anyone. Moving forward sounds rather excellent.

“Sorry,” he says weakly. Harry smiles and swats at him playfully.

“I’m serious,” he says. “Can we talk? And fucking cuddle?” He knocks his head against the pillow, eyes drifting upwards. “I’ve missed being cuddled by you so fucking much.”

Louis doesn’t laugh. “Come here,” he coaxes, sliding his hand down to Harry’s hip and tapping it a few times. “Come roll over.” He grins. “My little spoon.”

Harry goes easy, rolling over and nuzzling back against Louis. It takes a few moments of shuffling for them to tangle themselves back together but when they do Louis feels like he’s come home. Harry’s taller than him but over the years the two have perfected their way of spooning down to a fine art, where Harry curls forward a little while Louis drapes himself over Harry’s back. It’s been their way for as long as either of them can remember, and Louis’s missed it more than he was even aware.

“You wanna talk?” he murmurs lightly into Harry’s ear. “Or just cuddle?”

Harry hums, “cuddle, ‘least for a bit” and Louis is absolutely more than happy to oblige. Pressing a kiss into Harry’s bare shoulder he settles back, arms around Harry’s middle and his nose pressed into the back of Harry’s neck, which smells like shampoo and sweat.

They lie there until the room becomes bathed in natural darkness, the moon high in the sky and the only light coming from a few low-burning candles. There’s a chill in the air and goosebumps are starting to ripple on Louis’s skin. He shivers lightly, trying to hold back because he doesn’t want to disturb Harry, who he’s pretty sure has dozed off.

He unclasps his hands from around Harry’s and tries to shuffle back a bit, but all that does is coax a moan from Harry who pushes his body back straight away, chasing Louis’s warmth.

“Where are you going?” he rasps in a deep, sleepy voice. “Don’t go.”

“Not going, love,” Louis says, pressing back forward and kissing Harry’s messy hair. “Just gonna close the curtains and turn off the lights. Should probably make sure the cat is in too.”

“Hermione’s a big girl,” Harry yawns. “Come back to bed.”

Louis stares at him fondly for a couple of seconds. “Will in a sec, babe.” He closes the curtains then turns to the bedroom door. “Might just nip for a quick wee, love, hang on.”

He returns a few minutes later with clean teeth, a blissfully empty bladder and having let the cat in. Harry’s now under the duvet, blinking sleepily but smiling as Louis slides in and curls up in his embrace.

“You wanna talk a bit now?” he murmurs sleepily. Louis nods and tucks his face into Harry’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” he says. “I just wanna say, like, a few little bits about Troy and, um, a few little bits about my behaviour these past few weeks.”

“I’m all ears,” Harry says, arm wrapping around Louis’s back to keep them pressed close.

“Okay, so, I…” Louis starts, then takes a deep breath. “Troy was a piece of shit, wasn’t he? The worst father figure I could have asked for, but I’m still, like… I don’t know how I’m feeling right now. A bit shit but I can’t quite work out why.”

“That’s okay,” Harry hums. “Nobody expects you to bounce back from this straight away. That’s why we’re taking some mental health days, yeah? Because you don’t know how these things are going to affect you until they do.”

“My baby’s so smart and so good to me,” Louis coos. He feels a kiss pressed into his hair. “I can’t, like, get my head around it. Like it seemed so much easier when I wasn’t reconciling things with him on my own terms. And now, like, I just can’t. Ever.”

“Did you want to reconcile?” Harry asks carefully. “Because a few months ago you were adamant that you weren’t going to.”

Louis bites his lip. “I… I mean, I don’t know. Probably not, to be fair. I don’t know.”

“Don’t think too much about it, love,” Harry says. “You’ll make yourself feel so much worse if you do.” He manoeuvres them a bit so he’s got Louis cradled in his arms this time, lips pressed to his forehead. “As I said, nobody expects you to get over this kind of thing super-fast or anything. But talk to me, yeah? Don’t shut me out again.”

“Never again,” Louis promises. Harry’s so warm. “Never ever again.” There’s a pause for a few moments in which they just trade a few tired, lazy kisses. “And for the record, I’m so sorry about Robin. I’m sorry I never really got the chance to say it or show you or…”

“Hey, hey,” Harry says. “That’s a whole different thing that we need to talk about, sweetheart. It’s a bit late to talk about that right now, but I know you’re sorry. I just…” He lets out a long sigh. “I’m angry at you, but I’m not gonna stay mad because I know we were both really out of sorts. But do you get why I was upset?”

“Of course I do,” Louis tells him sadly. “I feel awful, Hazza. I wish I hadn’t been such a flake.”

“Then don’t be,” Harry says, simple and fierce. “If I say I wanna go and visit Mum because she’s sad, you come with me. If I say I’m having a gross day, we talk it out like adults rather than angrily bending the other over.”

Louis snorts. “Yeah, that was… that was bad.”

They fall into a silence for a few seconds, then Harry says, “no more of that. Let’s just… like, one day at a time, yeah? We’re still us and I love you and it’s _us_ , yeah? We’re a forever kind of thing. We always have been.”

“I know,” Louis says, smiling wetly into Harry’s chest. “I think I took you for granted though, and I’m so fucking sorry. I know you don’t wanna hear me say that anymore but I need you to know. I’m sorry and I’m really sorry it took me so long to, you know, come back to you or whatever.”

“I’m just glad you’re back,” Harry says. “I’m sorry that it was a shitty thing that’s actually made us talk but I’m just glad we’re talking again.”

“I’m gonna romance you so hard from now on,” Louis says, laughing weakly. “I’m gonna make you breakfast in bed and wash your hair and kiss you on the mouth and fucking love you so hard, Styles.”

“We’re still getting married, you don’t have to do that,” Harry whispers. “You need your sleep, baby.”

“And so do you,” Louis tells him. “Come on, baby spoon, let’s sleep. Long lie in tomorrow, I think.”

Harry nods, yawns, and rolls over. “Love you,” he mumbles. “So much.”

“I love you more than anything,” Louis whispers into his skin. “I’m going to make us the best again, I promise you, Harry.”

Despite the heavy beating of his heart and the millions of thoughts running through his head, falling asleep with Harry in his arms helps Louis sleep better than he has in close to a month.

*

Louis’s trying. He really, really is. It’s not meant to be perfect but he’s definitely trying.

Toast with banana and Nutella for breakfast becomes pancakes with banana and Nutella, laid out artfully on the kitchen table with a strong cup of coffee and a good morning kiss the second he’s sat down. He’s nicer to the cat, does the Tesco run after work even when he’s knackered and run down and emotional from a long day at the office, and he has dinner on the hob as often as he can for when Harry gets home.

He may not be the best cook in the world, but he’s been around Harry enough to get the general gist of it, he reckons. His first attempt goes a bit awry, he must admit – the veggie burgers he got from the freezer section aren’t actually meant to be fried so he burns them to a crisp. He also ruins the veggies, forgetting about them on the hob and boiling them into a green and orange mush. But it works out, because he orders in a curry and lays it out for when Harry’s back with the argument that they’re both knackered and they haven’t treated themselves in a while.

His second attempt isn’t much better. He tries some chicken kievs and oven chips – nothing too taxing – but ends up dozing off on the couch in front of Eggheads, so only wakes up when the fire alarm starts bleeping.

His third attempt is perhaps best not mentioning, but it’s his fourth attempt when Harry officially steps in. He’s home from work early, having asked for his shifts to be switched back to the way they were, and he looks tired but ever so fond when he walks into the kitchen and examines what’s cooking..

“Louis,” he says ever so gently, taking the spoon from him and putting it in the sink. “I love you for trying, I really do. But this isn’t what I meant, not really.”

Louis stares up at him, baffled. “Then I don’t… I don’t understand, Harry, I wanted to make you supper and I wanted…”

“Louis,” Harry says again, stepping forward into his space and taking both his hands in his. “Darling, I don’t want you to cook anymore.”

“Well, excuse you,” Louis snaps indignantly, balling his hands inside Harry’s up into little fists. “I was trying really hard actually, you don’t need to shit on my attempts.”

“Baby,” Harry says, a hint of a giggle in his voice as he uses the wooden spoon to hoick out some of the meat from the pan. “You somehow managed raw chicken in burnt sauce. I didn’t even know that was possible.”

Louis glares at him for a few more seconds, then Harry pulls a silly face and he breaks and starts to laugh too. He unballs his fists and turns them over so he’s squeezing Harry’s hands and tilts his head back.

“I have no idea either,” he says with a shrug. He sighs. “I just wanted to make you food because you’re always the one cooking for us. I want to give back and I kinda thought that this is what you meant.”

“I _like_ cooking,” Harry tells him, thumbing over his knuckles. “I like being the domestic fiancé that cooks a square meal for the pair of us in the evening, I’ve always liked that.” He pauses for a moment before he says, “also you’ve been dog-earring the pages of my Nigella cookbooks and that needs to stop immediately, you varmint.”

“ _Varmint,_ ” Louis repeats, tone scathing. “Who even says varmint anymore? Bloody hell, you are like an old domestic mother hen, aren’t you?”

“Shut up,” Harry tells him with a pout. “You are so rude to me.”

“Says the one who just told me my cooking is shit,” Louis points out. Harry just shakes his head and snorts. Louis just sighs and untangles their fingers, leaning back against the counter and gripping at it. “So if you don’t want me to cook for you, then what can I do?”

“Well for a start, I like to think our relationship is based on more than who does the most cooking,” Harry says matter-of-factly. He runs the back of his hand down Louis’s chin and Louis fights the urge to flinch away because he’s still not sure he’s deserving of the affection. “I want you to be _you,_ Louis. I want you so much.”

“You have me,” Louis says, his voice coming out a little strangled. “I thought you knew this. You’ve had me since I was fucking seventeen years old, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know you’re not,” Harry says, sounding a little offended. “That’s not my point.”

“Fuckin’ sounded like it,” Louis grumbles.

Harry sighs and leans back on his heels, crossing his arms. “Do you know, you are the most infuriating person when you’re not sure what to do? You get so snappy with me and I’m trying to…”

“Fucking tell me what you want from me then,” Louis cuts in loudly. “Okay, fine, I won’t cook in the evenings. But you know what? I’m a fucking liability otherwise, I swear. I don’t do the washing up, I don’t do the laundry, I don’t change the bed sheets or clean the toilet or de-hair the drain.”

“Neither do I,” Harry says, brows furrowed.

“What? Well then, who the fuck does?”

“Louis, there’s a spell for literally all of those. It’s not that strenuous.”

“Oh,” Louis says dumbly, heat prickling the back of his neck. “Shit.” He pauses awkwardly. “Should have probably thought of that, really, been doing this magic business for long enough.”

Harry fucking _giggles_ at him, then steps forward, gently taking his chin in between his finger and thumb and tilting it up so he can kiss him. It’s chaste but it makes Louis feel like he’s going to melt.

“I fucking love you, Muggle boy,” Harry tells him as he pulls back, large hands coming up to cover Louis’s hot cheeks. “Stop trying to cook and just kiss me. That’s what I need more than food.”

Louis groans. “Cheesy, _so_ fucking cheesy.”

Harry giggles again. “I said I don’t want food, actually.”

Louis groans even louder. “That was _terrible,_ what the fuck? Maybe I need to put my tongue in your mouth to keep you quiet.”

“There’s the Louis I know and love,” Harry teases gently, but they both know he means it. “My sarcastic little shitbag fiancé who I just want to fucking kiss all the time.” He kisses him again, firm and soft at the same time, pressing Louis against the counter. Instead of bracing himself like he probably should have done, he winds his arms around Harry’s waist and they both stumble a little as their bodies push together.

“For the record, I love you so much,” Louis says as they pull apart, breathing heavily. “And I always will.”

“I know,” Harry says with a soft smile. He kisses Louis’s forehead, then each of his eyelids, then the apples of his cheeks and his nose, and then he slowly kisses his lips again. “And I’m glad you do.”

Louis laughs quietly. “I’m sorry I burnt dinner. I’m sorry I’m a bit of a rubbish househusband.”

Harry’s thumb strokes across Louis’s cheek. “Remember when I was just eighteen and we moved in together?” Louis nods. “There was a night, like, three weeks before we got this place where we were at yours. I dunno if you remember but I definitely do. We were pressed together in that infernal single bed that’s probably half the reason my back is so shit but anyway.” Louis can’t help but laugh as he nods. “Well anyway, there was a night. And we were in that bloody bed and you said to me that you were worried that I’d get annoyed that you were going to be crap at the domestic stuff.”

“Glad to know I lived up to it then,” Louis says, cheeks flushing, but Harry shakes his head hurriedly.

“Not what I meant, Lou,” he tells him. “Anyway, I said to you back then the same thing I’m going to say to you now, which is both incredibly lame but also the truest thing you’ll ever hear past ‘I love you, Louis’, alright?”

“Sap,” Louis chides, but he’s starting to feel warm all over again. “What was it then?”

Harry takes a dramatic deep breath and puts his hand over his heart like he’s about to make the most important declaration of his life. “That I, Harry Styles, have been dreaming about and excited for domestic life since I started having ambitions. All I’ve ever wanted is a domestic life with the perfect partner.” He bops Louis on the nose. “And that, Louis Tomlinson, is _you._ ”

“Am I the perfect partner though?” Louis says dryly.

“You’re perfect for me,” Harry says, beaming as Louis groans loudly. “Look, alright, at eighteen perhaps I was a bit naïve to what life running a house would be like but I still fucking love it, yeah? I love having our home, I love it being filled with things that make it _us,_ and you know what? I love Sundays where we doze in bed until noon and then I cook us a massive slap up meal and then we sprawl on the sofa and do nothing because that’s been my dream _forever_ , Louis.” He cups Louis’s cheeks again. “So please,” he says earnestly, but Louis knows by the way his eyes are sparkling that he’s only a few seconds from bursting into laughter, “let me cook dinner for you, o perfect partner.”

“You’re so _lame,_ ” Louis giggles, then launches himself forward and winds himself back around Harry, pressing his face into his chest. Harry cackles as he wraps Louis into an embrace, taking a few steps back so neither of them topple over.

“Only as lame as you make me,” Harry answers, muffled by Louis’s hair. Louis grins into his chest and clings tighter to his back. He doesn’t want to let go. “Here, look. How about I show you the spells for bed sheet changing and toilet cleaning and stuff, would that make you feel a bit better?” Louis nods into his chest. “Okay, good. I love you, you know.”

“Love you,” Louis mumbles back. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Harry asks, hand cupping the back of Louis’s neck gently, nimble fingers scratching at the soft skin there. It practically makes Louis purr.

“For, like, not acting as though I’m rubbish,” Louis says. “I feel a bit rubbish at the moment, I’m not gonna lie.”

“Sweetheart,” Harry says sadly, gently coaxing Louis’s head back so they’re look at each other again. “Is it…? Is it the, um, the Troy thing?”

Louis lets out a long sigh. “I think… maybe?” He rubs at his eyes. “Can we go and sit down?”

Harry nods, then with his hand on the small of Louis’s back he guides them out of their little kitchen and towards their giant overstuffed sofas. Louis sits down first, tucking himself into his usual corner spot, then pouts and makes a noise of complaint as Harry sits on the other end of the sofa, legs crossed and facing him.

“Lap,” he commands, spreading his legs so one’s resting on the sofa and leaving a gap to lie between. Harry’s grin is wide as he shuffles forward eagerly. He inserts himself in between Louis’s legs carefully, resting his head on Louis’s shoulder and turning his face towards him so he’s noising at Louis’s neck and humming contentedly.

Louis slips one of his hands into Harry’s then turns his face to plant a gentle, short kiss on Harry’s slack mouth. “I miss you all the time, you know.”

Harry’s brows furrow and his face sets in a deep line of confusion. “But I’ve been right here.”

“I know,” Louis says, and reaches out to touch his cheek. “I know, it’s me who’s been the dick, I know it’s been me.”

“You’ve not been a dick,” Harry frowns, but it’s clear he’s just trying to placate him. Louis cups his hot cheek and kisses him again quickly.

“I have, my darling,” he says with a sad smile. “I don’t even know, I feel like… I’ve not been here? Like I’m living in this body but I’m just… I’m just existing. And it’s dragging you down with me and it’s making us fight and we’ve become distant and I don’t…” He pauses and closes his eyes. “I feel like ever since Robin died, and then Troy on top of it all, I feel like I’m just… I’m just this _burden._ On you, especially, because you’re the one I take it out on.”

“Lou,” Harry cuts in, taking a deep breath and squeezing his hand. “You… you never said.”

Louis offers a vague shrug in response. “I didn’t know what to tell you.”

“Baby,” Harry sighs sadly, “is this how you’ve really been feeling since Robin died?”

Louis hesitates but then nods curtly, because he knows there’s no denying anything to Harry now he’s said this much. Harry holds his hand a little tighter.

“Can you tell me, like, more?” he presses. “Like, are you always tired?”

“I mean, I haven’t been sleeping well but I thought that was down to us being distant still,” Louis replies with another heart-hearted shrug. “Why?”

“And…” Harry swallows, like he’s nervous to continue. “How do you feel, like, about yourself? _In_ yourself?”

Louis pauses for a long time. “I feel like…” he starts, then reaches for Harry’s other hand and laces their fingers tightly. “I feel like I’ve gone into this spiral of not knowing who I am? I feel like I’m just low and I’m being a crap fiancé and a crap son and a crap co-worker and friend. Like, there are times when I’m like, _oh I’m feeling better,_ then I’ll come home or someone will say something or a random thought will just pop into my head and I just… I just want to _sleep,_ Harry.”

“Louis, I don’t want to scare you but it sounds like you might have a mild depression if I’m being honest,” Harry says in response. Louis goes rigid and barely seconds later he’s being bundled against Harry’s chest once more, trapped in an awkward tangle of too-long limbs and too many feelings. He doesn’t cry – he’s so fucking _tired_ of crying – and just lets himself be held instead.

“I know I promised not to become one of those Healers who diagnoses everyone I know,” Harry’s mumbling into his hair rapidly. “But I want you to get help, like, as soon as you can because I don’t want it to get worse, I love you so much, I love you more than anything and I know people you can see or whatever, like, no pressure, of course, but I want you to be happy more than anything, _anything,_ Louis…”

“Harry,” Louis says thickly, not really sure what else to say. “ _Harry._ ”

“ _Lou,_ ” Harry replies, nosing at his hair. “It’s fine, yeah, because it’s not like it’s fatal or terminal or whatever _at all_ , and I don’t want to scare you of course, but I just think it would be better if you got… got, you know, seen by someone. Get an official diagnosis if you need one. And that’s only _if_ you need one. I could be wrong and just panicking.”

“You’re probably not wrong though, are you?” Louis croaks, pulling back so they’re eye to eye. “You wouldn’t say it if you thought you were wrong.”

“I just want you to be happy,” Harry repeats, sounding defeated. “I just…”

“I know, baby, I know,” Louis says, nodding his head. “I think we… I think we’ve spent so much of our lives, like, we’re this golden couple and when we started to not be so great I didn’t know how to handle it and I took it out so badly…”

“Shush,” Harry says forcefully, though not unkindly. “We _are_ still the golden couple but every couple has blips and down days. We’re going to handle it and I’m going to be here, yeah?”

“Why are you so good to me?” Louis questions in lieu of an answer, reaching forward to touch Harry’s cheek tentatively. He lets his fingers brush the soft skin for a few seconds before he clears his throat and says, “you’re handling this so well and I’m just shit at everything to do with this kind of serious stuff.”

Harry just offers a smile and he darts forward to kiss him instead, wrapping an arm around Louis’s back to keep him firm. The kisses they share are careful and calming more than anything but Louis sinks into them, hand cupping Harry’s neck as their lips move together.

When they pull apart, Harry brushes Louis’s fringe from his forehead so he can press his lips into it. “Louis Tomlinson,” he says in a low voice, deep and sincere, “I’ve been completely gone for everything about you since I was fifteen bloody years old. If you think it’s going to take a few weeks of low points and you saying you’re not happy with everything _except_ me then you clearly don’t know me like I thought you did.” Louis smiles softly and ducks his head, pressing his lips together like he’s embarrassed. “Hey. We’re a forever kind of thing, you and me. And that means all the shitty bits, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis echoes, tilting his flaming face up to look at Harry through his fringe. Harry reaches forward and carefully cups his chin between his thumb and forefinger, then presses forward to join their mouths again.

Nothing in the world will ever feel as good as Harry’s lips on his – Louis sinks into it, hands reaching forward for Harry’s shoulders and tugging him closer so he’s pressed against the back of the sofa and Harry’s hovering over him. Harry’s so gentle with him and Louis could _cry_ with how much he’s missed this closeness _so much._ But he’s really had enough of the tears and the feeling shit all the time, the feeling that if he met himself now he wouldn’t know himself. He’s so sick of feeling like his skin is too tight over his bones and he’s empty because he’s _not._ He’s got an amazing job and a family that love him and this boy that he would quite literally die for because he loves him so much. He wants to feel deserving and content and grateful and loved.

But most of all he wants to give back to Harry what he’s found Harry is capable of giving to him.

“If…” Harry says abruptly, pulling back like he’s suddenly been hit with a thought, “if you think I’m pushing, _tell_ me. Like, I know we already established that our communication recently has been a bit shit but I don’t want you to just kiss me and then everything be okay for a night before it goes back to being the way it was before.”

“No, _no,_ ” Louis breathes, sliding his hands up from Harry’s shoulders to cup his face. “I want you to push. I need to be told these things because I wouldn’t have done anything – or wanted to – without you. I _need_ you.”

Harry’s features visibly relax. “Okay, okay, good,” he murmurs. “I…”

“I love you,” Louis blurts. “Like, more than anything. And I think that I need to make more of an effort to not be a shit boyfriend because I was a shit boyfriend even before things went sour.”

“Fiancé,” Harry corrects, a cheeky grin crossing his face as he waves his ring in front of Louis’s face.

“ _Fiancé,_ ” Louis repeats, pretending to be exasperated. “You see what I mean? Bloody perfect, you are, you remember all these little details about our life.”

Harry’s face sinks a bit. “Darling, I- I really think you need to get out of this habit of thinking I’m perfect and you’re rubbish. Neither of us are bloody perfect.”

“You are,” Louis insists. “You do all the cooking and cleaning and shopping and you spend your days saving lives in the hospital…”

“Louis Tomlinson, shut your mouth right _now,_ ” Harry cuts in fiercely. “You were picked out of so many people in your team to be in this special unit that’s solving one of the scariest and most important fucking cases since the whole You-Know-Who thing. You’re incredible at what you do, you’re so talented. And _Godric,_ it sounds like the hardest job in the bloody world to me but you love it and I’m so proud of you!”

Louis blinks up at him, unable to stop the pleased and grateful smile that’s spreading across his face.

“You make me so proud every single day,” Harry continues, “because your job isn’t easy and you know it but you never stopped giving it your all, and you never once acted as though you wanted to pack it all in, even when what happened happened. You’re the most loyal person I know, and I think it’s bloody amazing.”

“Harry…”

“And you’ve taken care of me since I was fifteen years old,” Harry continues, eyes gleaming with something that looks like pride. “I know we, like, proper met for the first time because you were drunk off Fire Whisky and you nearly killed yourself tripping down the sixth floor staircase, but when I was struggling all the way through Defence Against the Dark Arts you were there tutoring me all through the bloody night if you had to, and when my grandma died and I had to sit my OWLS and couldn’t go home you broke into the bloody Hufflepuff common room to get to my bedroom. And what about that time you worked a job you hated for a year pulling pints, all so you could put down a payment on this place?” He leans his head back and stares at the ceiling for a second. “Do you know, I thought my heart was actually going to burst the day you told me you had bought us a fucking house together. I didn’t think I could ever love you more.”

“I sense a but,” Louis says with a shy grin. Harry beams and darts forward to kiss him again.

“Well, that time you proposed was probably higher,” he says against Louis’s mouth. “I literally orgasmed at the question, Louis, it was the best day of my life.”

“To be fair, I was balls deep, it’s not like you were far off the orgasm,” Louis points out. Harry cackles and engulfs him in a tight hug again, face buried in his shoulder as he takes a long inhale. “Shit, Harry, I love you so much. So, so much.”

“You are without a doubt the most special boy in my entire world,” Harry says as he cups his face again, kissing him between every word. “And I want you to be the happiest boy in the world.”

“Kiss me then,” Louis demands breathily. “Kiss me again, please.”

So Harry does. He kisses him breathless, pressing their bodies close together so there’s no space between their bodies and Louis feels warm all over. Harry kisses with fire, with clear intent and purpose, and Louis sinks into it. He grips at his fiancé and parts his mouth, snaking their tongues together and relishing in the closeness that he’s denied himself for so long.

 They make love on the sofa, Harry practically folding Louis in half as he presses into him over and over – slow, deep, careful, gentle. Bruises litter their skin and moans echo throughout the room, sweat dripping down temples and lube onto sofa cushions, lips pressed into skin and hands gripping at hair. Everything between them is charged, wet heat and breathy cries of each other’s names. Louis feels so _full,_ full and cared for and so, so in love.

They collapse on top of one another afterwards, Louis cradling Harry’s damp head to his chest. And they’re gross and sticky and he probably smells but they lie there for hours, where they kiss and talk and laugh and cry and remind each other why they fell in love in the first place.

Because that’s the thing, about being in love. It’s the knowledge that there will be ups and downs, and there will be times when it’s get hard and you want to run away from it all, to hide and never come back. But those times are forever outweighed by the good, because the good comes in so many forms. It comes in gentle touches, careful fingers stroking down spines or linking together, even just for a second. It comes in soft words shared only between lovers, of reassurance and desire and comfort, while also having the amazing uniqueness of conveying what others couldn’t or shouldn’t.

It’s a mutual understanding, a friendship that runs the deepest, an unbreakable bond. A road they walk down together, hand in hand, and even if stumbling blocks or stinging nettles try to slow them down or stop them, they’ll still make it through.

He and Harry were best friends first, and becoming lovers came so naturally to both of them. They moved in together at eighteen and twenty, young adults out in the world, but Harry still buys Louis the kids cereal and they still have to be reminded by Anne to pay their water bill and they still bicker over who steals the blankets and each other’s clothes and which of them would make the better Minister of Magic or TV presenter or King of the world.

The first time Louis realised he was in love with Harry is after a party in the Hufflepuff common room in his final year. Harry was fresh-faced, fifteen years old and completely beautiful. He got stupid drunk on whatever Fire Whiskey cocktail Zayn had given to him and he spent the night clinging to Louis’s back, mouth sliding wetly up and down his neck and mumbling nonsense into his ear.

When the party began to wind down, Louis grabbed a swaying Harry by the hand and said firmly, “back to your dormitory, come on.” But Harry shook his head.

“Stay here,” he commanded. “Still got some dancing to do.”

Louis raised his eyebrows. “Dancing? With _your_ legs? Are you sure?”

Harry hummed, wrapping his arms tightly around Louis’s middle and drawing them flush, chest to chest and nose to nose. “Dance with me,” is all he said. He kissed the tip of Louis’s nose and Louis simply snorted and rested his head on Harry’s shoulder, letting his tall, uncoordinated flop of a boyfriend awkwardly twirl and dip him to the beat of a song their dancing was completely wrong for.

Afterwards, Harry had kissed him stupid and they’d stayed huddled together in the middle of the dancefloor, still stumbling in an awkward circle and gazing at each other dopily and exchanging brief kisses, even after the DJ had packed up and the last person had gone to bed.

That’s when he knew.

Louis would have followed him to the ends of the earth then, and he’d still do it now. That hasn’t changed, even though it feels like everything else has.

So even though he’s clammy and sticky and gross, there’s still a Harry on his chest grinning at him in the same way he did the first time they slow-danced all those years ago.

It’s not perfect, but it kind of is.


	7. Wingardium Leviosa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late posting! work is a bitch and gets in the way of the important things in life. anyway, time for some ziam and some super major drama to go down, as if they haven't already been through enough. enjoy! xx

On the other side of London, completely oblivious to the drama in the Styles-Tomlinson household, Zayn has just had an _amazing_ fuck, lying back against the plush pillows of Liam’s bed and watching Liam work himself up and down on his dick for what felt like hours. They’re both sweaty and exhausted as Liam lifts himself up gingerly, then flops down on top of the duvet and lets out a long sigh.

“You have such a lovely dick,” he compliments, turning his sweaty head to gaze at Zayn. Zayn beams, still panting, and leans forward for a quick kiss.

“Cheers, babe,” he says, letting his eyes fall closed. “It’s rather fond of you too.”

Liam giggles. “All this time you said morning sex was a waste of time; that you couldn’t be arsed getting up that extra half hour before the usual alarm so I could ride your dick…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Zayn grins, swatting at him blindly. “This isn’t going to become an everyday thing; I hope you know that, Payne. A treat for the occasional morning, maybe.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” Liam says. Zayn can feel him shrugging against the pillows. “Not often I’ll say no to your cock.”

“Where’s the Liam Payne from Hogwarts?” Zayn says, still grinning. He pokes playfully at what he assumes is Liam’s chest. “Such filth would never have left his mouth.”

“Liam Payne from Hogwarts didn’t have a gorgeous boyfriend with a tight little arse back then.”

“Absolutely filthy,” Zayn snorts. “And heavy, and tiring.”

“You weren’t complaining a minute ago,” Liam chides. “Do you want a coffee?”

“If you’re making,” Zayn says. Godric, he could so easily fall back to sleep. “If you think I’m moving you’re sorely mistaken.”

“It’s just as well I offered then, isn’t it?” Liam says. Zayn feels the bed sheets move, then the bed dips as Liam climbs out of it. He can hear Liam’s bare feet slapping against the wooden floor of his hallway, and a couple of seconds later he hears him talking to Belle in a baby voice, which makes him smirk even wider.

He fights the urge to fall asleep again, or at least he tries, but the comfort of Liam’s plush pillows and warm duvet and comfy mattress are just too tempting. His eyes drift closed again and he tugs the duvet up to his chest, rolling over on his side. Liam will wake him before work, he knows he will.

He’s just about asleep when a sharp knock on the door makes his eyes snap back open. He stays still, unsure of whether to move or not because who on _earth_ would be knocking at half past seven in the morning, when he hears a voice and his entire body goes numb.

“Grip?” Liam’s saying, voice confused. “W-what are you doing here, mate? It’s been months, holy shit.”

“Hi, Liam,” Agrippa replies, the deep timbre of his voice carrying into the bedroom. “Did I wake you up?”

“No, no,” Liam says back. “Actually, I was, um, just about to make some coffee, can I tempt you with a cup?”

Zayn hears the door click closed. “I’m alright, thank you,” Agrippa’s voice says. “Have you got work today?”

Another pause. Zayn’s heart is hammering in his chest, and he’s just about to sit up, kick the covers off and let it be known that he’s here also when he hears one single word that makes everything fall into place.

“ _Imperio.”_

Zayn doesn’t even _think,_ he kicks the covers off and grabs his wand, then dives under the bed itself, moving as quietly as he can. He clutches his wand and curls his body up into a tight ball, biting his lip as he tries not to make any obvious moves. His mind is screaming at him to go and check on Liam but he _can’t,_ and that’s even scarier than knowing that if Agrippa spies him he’s undoubtedly dead.

The scariest thing is that it’s one of Liam’s _friends._ Granted, a friend that he didn’t think Liam was still in touch with, but a friend all the same. The Liam he knows has the biggest heart,  and the fact that he’s probably trusted this person enough time and time again to come into his home or his office to then have his memory wiped makes Zayn feel physically sick.

And that makes him wonder how many times this has happened. How many times has Liam opened the door to an old friend, probably thinking he was there to make amends, when really he’s there to fuck with him and he doesn’t even _know._ And Liam just lets him in every time, completely unawares. Zayn’s been lying to him for _months_ now, and in that respect he’s always almost been kind of glad that Liam’s so naïve and blindingly trusting, but now he’s never hated one of Liam’s personality traits more. He wants to cry and cling to him, but the sudden sound of footsteps approaching makes him curl in on himself even tighter, gripping his wand so hard he’s probably giving himself splinters.

He sucks in a breath and holds it as Agrippa walks into the room slowly. “Anyone in here?” he barks. Zayn remains stoic, forcing himself to keep his eyes squeezed shut. The footsteps move towards the ensuite bathroom, and once he’s sure Agrippa’s back is turned he opens his eyes and tilts his head. He gets a flash of the ugly tosser’s face, so any doubt is cleared, then he squeezes them closed once more as Agrippa spins on his heel and exits the room.

Ever so slowly, he lets out the breath he was holding and tries to force himself to relax a little. It’s not easy, knowing who’s in the next room, but he needs to if he’s going to have any chance at protecting Liam. That has to be his main priority.

Agrippa, it seems, moves fast. It looks as if whatever he came for Liam had readily at hand, so before Zayn really knows what’s happening he’s hearing him speak.

“You’re pretty fucking stupid to have not realised this yet, you know,” he’s laughing, apparently to himself, and Zayn’s free hand balls into an angry fist. “Just about as stupid as your boyfriend who thinks he spends enough time with you for me to have stopped this. Ha!”

There’s complete silence from Liam’s end, and that’s possibly the most terrifying thing about all this. He’s practically bubbling with anger, but he forces himself to keep listening because this evidence could quite literally change everything.

“I think I’ll go for someone a bit older this time” Agrippa carries on conversationally. “Maybe someone with grandchildren. I don’t think I’ve gone for someone with grandkids yet. What a novelty that would be!”

Zayn’s going to be _sick._

“Anyway, always nice to catch up, Leemo!” Agrippa says loudly, like he’s just talking to Liam as a mate and not in a scarily dry, obtuse manner. “I’ll see you again in the next couple of weeks, alright mate?”

With that, Zayn hears him cast _Obliviate_ and then the door slams shut. It seems like it happened all too quickly, but then Zayn realises that he’s probably mastered doing this over many months. He dreads to think how many times it’s been in total - feels physically sick at it, really – and he can’t help but wonder if it happens enough for this _arsehole_ to be clever at manipulating Liam amongst people like his work colleagues or his family.

Because that would make sense, as horrible as it is. People won’t question Agrippa and Liam being friends because anyone who was at Hogwarts with them knew they were friends, and their friendship group – well, Zayn’s friendship group – is diverse enough that it’s unlikely that any of them would have seen them together. But Zayn just doesn’t understand _how._ He spends so much time with Liam when he’s not at work and when he is at work he’s with Olly, who Zayn has only met once or twice but he knows is a Muggleborn too.

Clearly this guy has Liam’s schedule memorised, and Zayn ends up slapping a hand to cover his mouth when he realises he could be getting him at times like when he went to the loo or for a smoke break. And he’s coming to his _home_ as well, which is especially confusing to him. He looked around the house and decided it was safe enough to act, which Zayn can’t quite work out. Either he’s an idiot, because he could have easily cast a spell that would have given Zayn away, or he thought Zayn wouldn’t be there, which leads him to wonder if there’s been another death that he hasn’t heard about yet.

“Zayn?” he hears suddenly, and it makes him jump and he nearly brains himself on a box that Liam’s got stored under his bed. “Zayn, are you… are you under the bed?”

He scrambles out, standing up on shaky legs before he goes and flings himself at Liam. Luckily Liam catches him, because he barrels into him with such force that he nearly topples them both over. He clings to him, arms tight around his neck, grateful that Liam’s own arms fly up and cradle him in, stroking up his bare back.

“Zayn, what on earth?” he mumbles, tucking his face over Zayn’s shoulder and nuzzling his nose at his earlobe. “What just happened?”

It’s a testament to Liam’s gentle, trusting nature that he’s more concerned than baffled as to why Zayn was under the bed. Zayn feels truly awful in that moment because Liam has _no idea_ what just happened, and he never, ever wants to let him go.

“Liam,” he mumbles weakly, pressing his nose into Liam’s bare shoulder and taking a long inhale of what’s come to be his favourite smell. Liam kisses the top of his head and makes a questioning sort of noise. “Liam, I…” He cuts himself off and pulls back, eyes wide and nervous. “Liam, I… I need to know something.”

“What?” Liam asks.

“When did we meet?” he asks, well aware his voice is trembling slightly. “Not when did we start going out, but when did we meet?”

Liam opens his mouth to answer, lips already curled up in an expectant smile like he’s not sure why Zayn is even asking, when he freezes, mouth poised almost comically. “Ummm…” he says slowly, brows knitting together as he thinks. “I… you know, I’m not sure. It was at Hogwarts, definitely.”

“Liam,” Zayn croaks, shaking his head. “No, Liam, you know this, come on. _Think._ ”

“What…?” Liam flounders, and he’s getting more and more distressed in seconds when he realises he just can’t remember _again._ “Zayn, I don’t… I don’t know!”

“When’s my birthday?” Zayn asks breathlessly, fingernails probably digging into Liam’s shoulders a little too harshly. “Liam, come on.  When’s my birthday?”

Liam looks absolutely petrified. “Um,” he says, mouth flapping up and down like a fish. “I… um, I…”

“Liam, please,” Zayn says, voice breaking a little. “Tell me you remember.”

Liam doesn’t respond.

“My sisters,” Zayn whisper-yells. “I have three sisters; what are their names?”

“You have sisters?” Liam asks, like it’s a genuinely new piece of information for him, and then slaps a hand over his mouth. “Oh my god.”

“Liam,” Zayn croaks, his voice coming out throaty and his eyes pricking with tears. He takes a step back and fists his hands in his hair, mumbling something in Urdu. Liam drops down onto the bed and buries his face in his hands and they stay there in a tense, painful silence that’s possibly the loudest sound that Zayn’s ever heard.

“What’s wrong with me?” Liam shouts suddenly. “Why can’t I remember? I know your birthday. I know you have sisters. So why can’t I remember? Zayn?”

“Liam,” Zayn says again, because he doesn’t know what else to say. “Liam, I think…” He cuts himself off and barrels forward, wrapping Liam in his arms and cradling his shaking body to his own. “It’s gonna be alright, babe.”

“Is it?” Liam wails. “Because I’m trying to think of some things that I know – like not even about you, but about my family, and I don’t know them? What’s Nic’s fiancé’s name? I couldn’t fucking tell you right now, I can’t…”

“Babe, I need you to breathe a second,” Zayn says. He presses his hands on top of Liam’s and squeezes. “Breathe, love, it’s going to be okay.”

“You keep saying that but what’s happening?” Liam cries. “You're scaring me, Zayn, and I’m already fucking terrified.”

Zayn kisses the top of his head and tries to keep his own trembling at bay so Liam can’t tell how scared he is. He’s probably doing a terrible job. “I’ll fix it. You’re not sick, I just…” He presses his lips back into Liam’s hair, because if he keeps talking he might start crying. “You’re not sick.”

“How do you know, though?” Liam crows. “I feel like you know something that I don’t and that’s fucking scaring me, Zayn. Zayn?”

Zayn pulls away and hurries over to Liam’s wardrobe, where he grabs a top and a pair of trousers at random, yanks them on, then rushes into the bathroom.

“I’m going into the office,” he calls through a mouthful of toothpaste foam. “I need… I’m sorry, Liam, I don’t wanna leave you like this but they need to know.”

“Need to know what?” Liam shouts, standing up and leaning in the doorway. There’s a single tear clinging to his stubble and his mouth won’t close. Zayn wants to hold him and never let go. “Zayn, what’s going on? Fucking _tell me._ What do you know?”

“I can’t tell you,” Zayn says sadly, spitting out his toothpaste and setting the toothbrush back in the cracked mug Liam keeps on his sink. “I really can’t; fuck, I would in a second if I could because what I’m doing isn’t fair but it’s fucking Ministry policy, fuck…”

“I deserve to know,” Liam says angrily, but he doesn’t put up much more of a fight. “Zayn…”

“I’ve gotta go,” Zayn says, and he feels bloody horrendous for saying it. “I … I care about you so much, Liam, please know that. Please know that anything that happens from now on…” He sighs and hurries back over to him, gingerly wrapping his arms around Liam’s waist. “Whatever happens, I lo- you mean the fucking world to me.”

“Zayn…” is all Liam manages to croak, but clings to him regardless. He presses their cheeks together, shaking his head and trembling. Zayn kisses whatever part of him his lips can get at, his cheek and his nose. “I…”

“I’ve gotta go,” Zayn says again, and he reluctantly pulls out of Liam’s arms and smiles sadly. “I’ll come round after work, yeah?”

“I guess,” Liam says miserably. Zayn doesn’t – _can’t_ – look back as he hurries out of the flat, hand wiping a bit uselessly at his own eyes. His heart is beating a mile a minute, and a million and one terrifying, life-changing, _heart-breaking_ thoughts are racing through his head. Agrippa was _there,_ in Liam’s house, someone that Liam _knows_ and trusts and wants to let into his house. That’s the scariest part, because Zayn still doesn’t know a huge amount about Liam’s friends. He doesn’t think he really wants to, at this point.

But he knows enough to deduce that Agrippa is involved somehow, and pretty majorly by the looks of things. Whether he’s the actual killer or not it’s really too early to say, but Zayn has a strong feeling that he is. He can’t help but wonder how large this operation stretches, because it’s a big fucking case to handle on your own, especially with killings occurring up and down the country. Merlin, nothing makes any fucking sense and he’s not really sure what he’s even going to say when he gets into the office, but fuck if they haven’t had a lead like this since the case began. In fact, the more he thinks about it, the more he’s sure they have very little time. What for, he isn’t sure, but he’s scared and on edge and he just needs to be in the office right now.

He jogs to the Floo Network near Liam’s house in record time, and once he arrives at the Ministry he tears through the hallways towards his office. He presses the door open with his wand and stumbles inside, startling all those who are sat round the table eating their breakfast.

“Zayn?” Ron asks, jumping to his feet. “Zayn, bloody hell, are you alright?”

“No,” Zayn wheezes, hands on his knees as he tries to force the air back into his lungs. “No, I…” He coughs for a second and then there’s a hand on his back, a hand he recognises easily as Louis’s. “I…”

“Sit down, yeah?” Louis murmurs comfortingly, guiding over towards an empty seat. “Christ, Zayn, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Zayn drops down into his seat and stares up at him, confused. Louis holds up his hands.

“Sorry,” he says. “Muggle expression, never mind.”

Zayn just nods blankly, then reaches for his best mate’s hand. Louis gives it to him easily, but he looks confused and a little worried, so Zayn does his best to calm down. Once he’s no longer hiccupping, he asks, “where’s Harry?”

“Potter?” Ron asks. Zayn nods. “He’ll be here soon. Why, what’s happened?”

Louis squeezes his hand, and Zayn feels a little better. “I think… okay, I _know_ something pretty big, it’s…” He pauses. “I need to, like, come clean about something but it’s, like… I did what I had to, you know?”

“Oh, fuck,” Louis mutters behind him. Zayn ignores him.

“Zayn, mate, what the fuck are you talking about?” Ron says disbelievingly. “Come clean about what? What did you do?”

Zayn bites his lip and looks around the table. Leigh, Jade, and Stan are staring at him with big, sad eyes and Cher just looks flat-out confused. He’s terrified, really, because this is the last thing he ever wanted to have to admit, and if he’s honest with himself there was always a part of him that thought he could get away with it. He trusts the people in the room with him with his life, but he knows that once he tells both Harry and Ron this, he’s more than certainly done for.

He opens his mouth again, but then Harry Potter enters the room with a bemused expression. He looks at the group and halts, then takes a couple more tentative steps forward.

“Morning,” he says slowly. “What’s… why is it so tense in here?”

“Um, morning,” Ron coughs. “We, um, well. Zayn was about to tell us something actually.” He turns back to the group. “Zayn?”

Zayn inexplicably wants to cry. “I have a lead,” he says, trying very hard not to let his voice break. “It’s a fucking big one and all, but I, um.” He sighs. “Okay, so I’ve just gotta tell you, really.”

Harry’s brows furrow and Louis’s grip on him goes from supportive to vice. “Yeah?” Harry questions. “What’s happened, Zayn?”

Zayn takes a deep, shaky breath. “I think I know who the killer might be.”

The entire room goes still, the only sound Ron knocking over his mug of coffee. The spoon clatters against the china of the mug and he hisses, hurriedly cleaning it up with several quick spells. Zayn’s eyes had dropped immediately after his statement, but after a few moments of excruciating silence his gaze drifts up again. Harry Potter is fishmouthing at him, Leigh and Jade both have hands covering their mouths, and Ron looks a little like he might kill something himself.

“ _What?”_ Harry yells suddenly, which makes him jump. “What do you mean, you know? Who is it?”

“His name is Agrippa Smyth,” Zayn says, voice sure. The rest of the table all gape and Louis drops his hand, presumably to cover his own mouth. “He’s one of Liam’s close mates – well, he was – and he came to Liam’s flat this morning. I… he Cursed him using _Imperio_ and then he got him to give him something, I don’t know what though. Then he wiped his memory and left.”

Harry lets out a long exhale, hands gripping the back of a chair so tight his knuckles have gone white. His face is carefully neutral and it’s making Zayn feel so nervous he can barely stand it. He turns to look at Ron, but Ron just looks confused, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck.

“I’m…” Harry starts to say suddenly, shaking his head. He takes his glasses off his nose and starts to clean them on the sleeve of his jumper. “I think we need a little more than that, Zayn,” he says slowly. “Can you start from the beginning?”

Zayn nods, cheeks flaming pink as everyone’s eyes stay locked on him. “Um, yeah, okay,” he stutters. “I, um, I first met Agrippa about five or six months ago, maybe? It was Harry – Louis’s Harry – his birthday drinks at a little pub we like to go to. There were quite a few of us there, actually – I was there and obviously Louis was too, and Jade and Leigh and Stan. Anyway, at the time he was going out with Perrie – my ex, remember I’ve spoken about her a bit?” Harry nods. “Yeah, well, they’d just started going out and that pub trip was the first time we as a group of mates all met him. Anyway, he started spewing the worst, hateful stuff about Muggleborns that day to Harry, like, about how he shouldn’t marry Lou and all this rubbish.” He pulls a face. “Something about keeping good Wizarding families pure.”

He hears Louis take a deep breath behind him and he wants to pull him into his arms. “Okay,” Harry Potter drawls slowly, still sounding unconvinced. “But a dislike for Muggleborns still isn’t enough to prove he’s the killer.”

“It wasn’t a dislike,” Leigh-Anne pipes up. “It was, like, a scary hatred. Louis nearly throttled him there and then.”

“It’s true,” Louis says. “He was basically calling me worthless to my face, and Harry’s family too. And he looked fucking _furious_ when Liam refused to back him up.”

“Okay, but,” Harry says exasperatedly, “it’s still not enough to call him a killer.”

Zayn braces himself for impact and barrels on. “I know, but him turning up at Liam’s house at half seven this morning and then Cursing him does.”

Harry looks rather baffled. “He came to Liam’s house? This morning?”

Zayn nods. “Yeah, I heard him come in and hid under the bed. He did a super quick search of the flat but didn’t find me or anything. And I heard him wipe Liam’s memory again so I, like, asked him some questions and he’s still unable to remember stuff. It’s…”

“What… were you doing at Liam’s house at half seven in the morning?” Harry asks. His voice is low and careful, and Zayn thinks he might be sick. “Did you stay over?”

Zayn nods.

“Fuck,” he hears Louis exhale behind him.

“I… I stay over quite a bit,” Zayn continues, because now he’s started he might as well get it all out. “I was asleep in his bed when I heard the knock on the door, and when I recognised Agrippa’s voice I was going to go through there and say something. But then he cast the Imperius Curse and so I hid. I wasn’t really sure what else to do.”

“You’re sure it was him?” Harry says. His voice is still empty of any emotion and Zayn feels the back of his neck prickle with an uncomfortable heat. “Did you see his face from your position under the bed?”

Zayn nods. “Yeah. It was definitely him. And he was talking. Loads. He said his next victim is going to be someone with grandkids. I could vouch for it under Veritaserum if you needed me to.”

Harry’s voice holds an uncharacteristic coldness when he next speaks. “And what would you tell us under Veritaserum if I asked you about your relationship with Liam, hm?”

Zayn blanches, and Louis audibly gulps somewhere behind him. Ron, thankfully, cuts through any weak response he would give by exclaiming, “now hold on a minute, Harry. Zayn’s just given us something to go on for an arrest. Isn’t that what we need?”

“Is it enough to go on?” Harry asks, crossing his arms. “We have one man’s word here, Ron. One man who just also told us he’s been putting our entire mission in jeopardy.” Zayn hangs his head.

“Woah, woah,” Ron cuts in, holding his hands up. “He didn’t quite say that, Harry mate.”

“No, you’re right, but he has been a bloody idiot,” Harry says, letting out a long sigh. “So, what? You’re sleeping with him?” Zayn nods slowly, hands clasped and wringing together nervously in his lap. “You… what, do you love him?”

Louis splutters something that he tries to mask with a cough, and Zayn grips the arm of his chair so tight his rings start to hurt his fingers. “Yes,” he answers after a tense couple of seconds. “Yeah, I do.”

“Jesus Christ,” Louis hisses. Zayn watches, terrified, as Harry’s hands ball into fists and he pounds one of them against an invisible wall.

“Zayn,” he says slowly, calmly. “You do realise why this is an issue, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Zayn says again, voice no louder than a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

“I… don’t think I do, necessarily,” Ron says after a heavy pause. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, Zayn, I don’t think you’re the cleverest for falling in love with a murder suspect – no offence – but, like, we’ve got enough to go on to make an arrest, am I right?”

Harry sighs and drums his fingers against the table. “Have we? Realistically?”

Ron shrugs. “I honestly don’t see why not.”

Harry’s hand balls into a fist and he punches it frustratedly against his other palm. “It’s a fucking solid lead, don’t get me wrong, but we’ve also got an Auror here whose…”

“Potter!” Simon’s voice calls from the doorway, making them all jump. He’s got a scroll in his hand, and his facial expression is stony and hard. Harry looks up.

“What, Simon?” he asks, sounding exasperated. “Can we make this quick?”

“Nope,” Simon says, strolling across to the table. “There’s been another death within the last half hour, news just reached us. I’m waiting for an Owl from Luna with more details so at the moment all I’ve got is a name, age, and location.”

There’s a collective gasp around the table, and Harry swears loudly, kicking a chair frustratedly. Louis’s hand finds Zayn’s again and he clutches it desperately. He spies Jade out of the corner of his eye turn her face into Leigh-Anne’s shoulder, and Stan’s fisting his hands in his hair. Cher’s slumped in her seat, eyes wide and sad, and Ron looks a little green.

“Right then,” Harry groans, throwing his hands in the air. “Name, age, location. Hit me.”

“Daniel Thornton,” Simon says, unrolling the scroll and laying it on the table. “Sixty-eight years old, from Basildon.”

“Basildon?” Harry repeats. “So not far at all.”

Simon shakes his head. “Exactly. We’ll know more in about two minutes, so hang tight.”

“Sixty-eight years old,” Ron says aloud, having tugged the scroll of parchment towards him. “Old enough for grandkids, that is.”

Harry clasps his hands in front of his face, and Zayn suspects he’s keeping his face carefully neutral about the whole thing. Not that he can blame him, after just having a bombshell like this followed by another death in the space of roughly ten minutes; he is just immensely glad the focus is shifted from him, selfish as that sounds.

There’s an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes as Harry and Ron continue to pour over the limited information on the parchment in front of them and the rest of the team sit quiet. Eventually Simon returns with a file, which he places on the table and then multiplies. “ _Geminio.”_

Everyone scrabbles for a copy, and Zayn hands one to Louis before taking one for himself. As with all the others, there’s a picture pinned to the front. It’s an elderly gentleman with a pot belly and slightly crooked teeth, but his smile is friendly and inviting. He looks like a stereotypical friendly grandpa, and Zayn aches with the thought that he’s been potentially snatched from the lives of several innocent little kids who probably adored him.

“Daniel Thornton,” Harry reads aloud, drawing Zayn’s attention back. “Sixty-eight, Basildon. Husband to Henrietta, father to Tom and Katy…” He pauses, then swallows. “Grandfather to six year old Hannah, five year old Danielle, and three year old Oliver.”

“Fucking hell,” Ron mutters. Zayn’s heart is like a jackhammer in his chest, pounding away so hard that he wouldn’t be surprised if Louis could hear it. The silence is practically deafening, but thankfully Simon breaks through it.

“Have I missed something?” he questions. The awkward silence he’s met with definitely serves as an answer. “What’s going on?”

“Zayn knows who the killer is,” Ron says eventually. His voice stays pretty even as he speaks, which Zayn is quite impressed with. “It’s a bloke called Agrippa Smyth.”

“Wait, _what?”_ Simon demands. “Since when?”

“Since this morning,” Zayn croaks. “He came to Liam’s house while it was still early and he Cursed him.”

“And you were there?” Simon asks, but he doesn’t sound cross like Harry had, just curious. “And you can verify it was him?” Zayn nods. “Would you testify under Veritaserum?”

Zayn nods. “Absolutely.”

“You’re _sure?_ ” Harry asks again, and he sounds pissed off. “There is no doubt in your mind at all?”

“Literally none,” Zayn says shortly. Harry’s attitude is really getting on his tits. “I wouldn’t lie about this, Harry. Yeah, okay, I might have fucked up a bit and yeah, I know I’m probably gonna be fired but I’m not gonna lie about knowing who the killer is. Not after what he’s doing to Liam, not after what he did to Louis and Harry…” He hears Louis let out something akin to a snarl behind him but he keeps talking. “Not after what he did to Ron and Hermione, or these innocent people and their poor families, _Godric._ Look, he’s definitely the killer. And he’s a manipulator and a bully and a raging tosspot on top of that.”

“That piece of shit fucking killed my fucking fiancé’s step-dad,” Louis growls. “I’m going to fucking rip his fucking nutsack off.”

“Now is really not the time for threats like that, Louis, _Christ_ ” Harry says firmly. He runs a hand through his hair. “Merlin’s left bollock, this is not really how I pictured my Monday morning going.”

“We can’t ignore though, Harry,” Ron says, patting him on the shoulder. “We’ve gotta be real here, this is the biggest lead we’ve had, and partly the reason we set Zayn up doing it this way in the first place.”

Harry sighs. “I know, I know.” He drums his fingers on the table a few times. “Send for Felicity Bluewater upstairs and see if she can get some Hit Wizards round to this Agrippa Smyth’s house, like, now. Get him brought it so we can interrogate him.”

Simon nods curtly and then sweeps out the room. Harry turns back to the group at the table and folds his arms somewhat menacingly. “So,” he starts, looking each of them up and down slowly. Zayn feels his cheeks flame with humiliation. “This is something, isn’t it?”

“Look, Harry,” Zayn says, pushing himself up out of his chair and scratching sheepishly at the back of his neck. “I know you’re mad at me but I can explain…”

“Explain what, Zayn?” Harry probes. “Explain how you kept up the pretence of being close to Liam so you could keep screwing him? Explain to us how you could have put the whole case in jeopardy because you couldn’t keep it in your pants?”

“Hey,” Ron says loudly. Zayn hangs his head. “Harry, what the hell are you doing? Don’t… don’t be like this, mate, it doesn’t suit you.”

“I just told you I’m in love with him,” Zayn mutters as he looks up, folding his arms across his chest. “It’s not just _sex,_ Harry. I wouldn’t… no offence, but I thought you knew I had a little more professional decorum than that.”

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up. “Zayn. I… look, I’m fucking angry at you, alright? It’s feels like you’ve lied to us for months about this case, like… I respect you wanting to keep him safe, and obviously I believed you when you said he was in danger because you told us under Veritaserum. But _this…_ I mean… ethically this is a big fucking deal. You fell in love with someone we originally thought was a bloody murder suspect, and that could have had huge implications for the validity of the case or your own safety, even.”

“The thing is,” Zayn starts slowly, then takes a deep, shaky breath, “I know you’re right, I do. But I don’t think this is the time to talk about ethics when I’m fucking _lying_ to the person I’m in love with.” He gulps. “This morning, I was hiding under his fucking bed and then he came back into his bedroom like nothing was different, and then he just… he couldn’t remember _anything._ And he’s freaking out, right, and what can I say? He’s clinging to me nearly crying and all I can say is a weak it’s going to be okay, you know?” His hands ball into fists. “I have always been so careful, Harry. The person I’m in love with is losing his memory more and more every fucking day, and I try so hard not to let on that I know the exact reason. I lie to him and I tell him it’s probably a side effect of the potions he’s working with down in the lab. I lie to him and tell him it’s going to be okay, but I don’t fucking know that, do I? And this morning, I fucking hid under the bed while the person he would have called his best mate a year ago Cursed him and made him fork over some kind of deadly ingredient that he later used to kill this poor, innocent bloke, and I fucking _hid._ So yeah, maybe I fucked up a little by falling in love with Liam, but I’ve never, _ever_ let slip that I think he’s involved somehow. And I wouldn’t. My job is to keep Liam safe, so I’m keeping him safe, and if that means lying and eventually getting my own heart broken then so be it.”

He finishes his rant and drops back into his seat, and he doesn’t even need to ask for Louis to rest supportive hands on his shoulders. He brings a hand up to his face and scrubs over it, not daring to look Harry in the eye. The room feels like it’s buzzing – there’s so much happening all at once and Zayn can barely see straight he feels so all over the place – and nobody says anything for a rather long time.

“Bloody hell,” he hears Ron mutter eventually. “This is something fucking else.”

“I…” Harry starts, but then the door flies open again and Simon returns, looking thunderous.

“He’s gone,” is all he says. Zayn’s head whips up and he stares, only wincing a little as Louis’s fingernails jab into his skin. “He’s fled.”

“What?” Harry screeches. “What do you mean, he’s fled?”

“I mean, we got the Hit Wizards to Apparate to his house immediately but he’s emptied it. It’s like he doesn’t live there,” Simon says, slapping his fist against his palm. “Which means he’s probably onto us and he’s gone into hiding.”

Harry lets out something akin to a snarl. “Can we trace him?”

Simon pauses like he’s mulling it over. “I don’t see how,” he says after a second.

“His job,” Harry offers. “Where does he work?”

“Here, I think,” Zayn pipes up. Harry spins to look at him. “Something in the Department of Magical Games and Sports, if I remember rightly. He’s something to do with the Ludicrous Patents office.”

Harry snaps his fingers. “Send them down there then. _Now._ It’s a Monday morning, he should be in work by now, right?”

Simon nods and hurries out again, and Harry groans. “Fuck _me._ ”

“Surely we should be doing something other than sitting round this table,” Ron says, leaping to his feet. “I mean, okay, Zayn, you should you knew a bit about him as he went out with your ex and stuff, yeah?”

Zayn blanches. “Yeah, but not much at all. All Perrie really said was that he was so sweet and a proper gentleman, you know, until he wasn’t.”

“Yeah, whenever Perrie talked about him to us girls she, like, proper sang his praises,” Jade adds. “They were together for, what, two months? And she was like properly gone for him. It really hit her hard when he turned out to be so gross, especially because that hate was targeted towards Harry, you know?”

“Had she ever been to his house?” Harry asks. “I know that’s asking you to remember a long way back but that could be important.”

Jade nibbles on her lip in thought. “I don’t know,” she answers after a second, and she shrugs dejectedly. “If she ever did mention that then it’s not something I’ve committed to memory.”

Harry purses his lips. “Okay,” he says. “I mean, not much we can do. It’s not a problem, Jade, don’t look so defeated, love. They’ll be other leads.”

“Hang on a minute,” Zayn interrupts, a memory suddenly popping into his mind. “After… after that night I went back to Liam’s because he wanted to talk to me about stuff, and he told me then that he was, like, really unnerved by the Agrippa he’d seen in the pub that night. He had no idea he was that hateful, like, it seemed like something he’d heard him preach about but he didn’t know he felt that strongly.”

“Yeah?” Ron questions. Zayn nods.

“Yeah. Agrippa tried to get Liam to back him up on this whole importance of family purity thing but Liam wasn’t having any of it, and he even tried to leave because he thought everyone would think he was like that when he’s really not.”

“Jesus,” Harry mutters. “If this is true, he’s really done a number on your boy, hasn’t he?”

Zayn nods again sadly. “It’s true, I swear it’s true.” He sighs. “Fuck it. If you want me to testify any of this under Veritaserum I’ll tell you literally anything you want to know. As long as…” He gulps. “As long as you promise me that you won’t tell Liam anything. Not… not just yet.”

Harry groans. “Later,” he tells him. “We need to work out what’s going on with this Agrippa piece of shit before I can worry about that, alright?”

“Okay,” Zayn agrees, and he even offers him a small smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re not off the hook just yet,” Harry tells him sternly, waving a finger in his face. “But I’m not gonna fire you, Zayn, _Merlin._ We’re too close to something here for me to let you go.”

Zayn’s heart leaps. “Really?” he blurts, gripping the arm of his chair rather tight. “Oh, thank you, Harry, thank you, _thank you…_ ”

“France,” Simon’s voice cuts across Zayn’s babbling, and he promptly shuts up. “He’s fucked off to fucking _France._ ”

“Excuse me?” Harry asks, voice going from soft to hard in a split second. “What do you mean, he’s fucked off to France?”

“I mean,” Simon says, his tone equally as furious, “according to Karen Grotflank down in the Ludicrous Patents Office, he quit his job last Friday. He told everyone in the office he was moving in with an elderly relative in the fucking Dordogne.”

“So he’s in France right now,” Ron deadpans. “He’s in fucking France.”

“Who fucking knows?” Simon says, and he sounds positively thunderous. “We also found _this._ ” With that, he slams some papers onto the desk with such force that the scroll from earlier retracts into itself. “Muggle passport documentation.”

Ron snatches it up and his eyes scan over it hurriedly. “So what it looks like is he’s actually fucked off to France,” he snarls. “He bought plane tickets from Luton airport for a flight that left…” He checks his watch. “Twenty minutes ago.” He looks up, eyes wide. “So, what? Do we really think he got on that flight?”

“ _Fuck_ knows,” Harry scowls, taking the papers from Ron so he can read them himself. “I mean, if it’s a distraction then it’s pretty shit because I personally don’t think he would have gotten on that flight, but we can’t be sure.”

Simon makes a noise of agreement. “I don’t either, but at the moment it’s all we’ve got to go on.”

Harry groans. “Right,” he says snappily. “I’m going to Floo over to Fleur’s office, see if she can halt anything for when – _if –_ he arrives at the French airport.” Zayn’s eyebrows shoot up at the name drop, but then he remembers that Fleur Delacour, deputy French Minister – is actually married to Ron’s older brother and has famously said that she’d do pretty much anything for Harry after he saved her sister that one time. It’s rather a piece of local legend.

“Sounds like a good plan,” Ron agrees. “We’ll stay here and get the details sorted, issue a warrant for his arrest and all that.”

Harry purses his lips and nods. “Get Bluewater to have Hit Wizards on standby. The rest of you – keep fucking digging. Leave no stone unturned on the bloke. And… oh, fuck.” He sighs glumly. “Can one or two of you Apparate over to Daniel Thornton’s family and, you know, break the news.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe I forgot about that.”

“I don’t mind doing it,” Cher volunteers. “I could do with a breath of air from this office, not gonna lie.”

There’s a sad huff of laugh from the rest of the group, and Harry nods as he watches her disappear from the room. He turns back to the rest of them, and Zayn can’t help but feel like Harry’s gaze is avoiding him.

“Leigh, Louis? Can you do the usual research into the victim?” Louis hums a yes, then slides into the seat next to Zayn. “The rest of you, Agrippa research. Got it?”

“Got it,” Zayn mumbles along with the rest of the group, then he lets out a breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding in. Harry leaves without another word, simply clapping Ron on the shoulder before he hurries out the room. Ron watches him go, then turns back to the group and pulls a face.

“You heard the man,” he says, tilting his head towards the door. “Let’s get to it. Let’s stop this cunt before he can do anything else.”

The next ninety minutes are possibly the tensest ninety minutes they’ve ever spent in that stuffy office. Zayn, Jade and Stan work diligently as a three, and what they come up with is rather disturbing. It seems that Agrippa’s father, Augustus, was close friends with Liam’s father, Geoff; both of them were Prefects, sorted into Slytherin, and in the same year at Hogwarts. The issue, however, is with what happened after they left Hogwarts. Augustus just… disappears.

It was reported to the Ministry, but it seems they did a rather half-hearted job of searching for him. Regardless, nothing ever came of it, so Agrippa was raised by his mother, Cassandra, alongside his older brother and sister. Their address is listed as somewhere near Dudley, so it’s not beyond the realms that even without Arthur around, the Smyths and Paynes stayed in touch and saw each other fairly regularly.

“Hey, Ron?” he calls, brows furrowed as he glances over Augustus’s file once more. The big red stamp across the front that reads _ABANDONED_ feels a bit like it’s taunting him. “Have you ever heard of an Augustus Smyth?”

Ron shakes his head from across the room. “No, why?” he asks. “Is that Agrippa’s dad?”

“Yeah, but he disappeared in, like, 1993,” Zayn says. “He’s not been seen for over twenty years, but the Ministry sort of just gave up on his case.”

Ron hums. “Well, let’s be honest, 1993 was a pretty big year for the Ministry, what with the whole Voldemo-“ He stops suddenly and stands up, almost knocking his chair over in his hurry. “Fuck.”

It takes Zayn a second, but when he twigs his mouth drops open and he lets out a short, incoherent sound. Stan and Jade are also sitting bolt upright, looking rather shocked. It’s a thought that had crossed nobody’s minds, clearly, but now nothing has ever seemed more terrifying.

“You… no…” Jade gets out, twisting her head frantically between the pages in front of her, Ron, and Zayn. “You don’t really think…”

“Zayn,” Ron says calmly, possibly too calmly for his liking, “will you go and check the death report list? You know, from the… from the big event?”

“Sure,” Zayn says, trying to keep his voice level. He hurries out of the room and back to his old office, using their Wand Recognition System to get to the files. There are a few raised eyebrows from his old colleagues, and he can’t do much more than offer them fleeting, sheepish smiles because beforehand he would never have had anything close to that level of clearance.

On the walk back, he opens the file gingerly and has a quick look over the names of the dead or arrested, but as far as he can tell, Augustus Smyth was not one of them. Neither was anyone with the last name Payne, which eases something in the back of Zayn’s mind, but it’s not saying much when he notes just how many names are on that list. There’s loads, more than Zayn can even comprehend.

He takes it back to Ron, and Ron looks over it as well. “He’s not there, is he?” he murmurs, and he sounds cross about it, which Zayn was not expecting. “So he could be dead for all we know, but he could also be alive.” He groans, running a hand through the front of his hair. “Does he have any other criminal convictions?”

Zayn shrugs. “Hey, Stan?” he calls over. “Did Augustus Smyth have any other convictions with the Ministry? Or, like, was he being watched or anything?”

Stan rifles through some pages and has a read, but he ends up shaking his head. “Nothing,” he replies. “Sweet FA. His disappearance probably means jack shit to this case, to be fair.”

Ron groans. “ _Fuck._ ” He drops back down in his swivel chair and thumps the wood of his desk with his fist. “Although, in a way I’m kinda relieved. Dunno if I could deal with reopening that door, you know, into that shitty bit of the past.”

Zayn doesn’t really know what to say, so he just nods and slowly moves back towards his own desk. He’s barely sat down before Harry Potter comes bursting back into the room, glasses slightly askew and hair all over the place, like he’s had to Floo several times in a few short minutes. They all turn to look at him, but all he offers them is a shake of his head.

“We got nothing,” he says, dropping into a chair and slumping against it. “He wasn’t there. Of course he wasn’t there.” Zayn can’t help his grimace, and it seems like neither can most of the rest of the room. “Will someone get me a coffee, please?”

From behind him, Louis moves towards the door obediently. Zayn watches him go out of the corner of his eye, but then Harry clears his throat so his attention moves back.

“Stan, Jade, Zayn, any leads?”

“Not a lot,” Jade answers for the group, and Zayn is quite grateful because he’s still not sure he wants to talk to Harry right now. “Although Zayn did discover his dad went missing when Agrippa was only one years old.”

“His dad went _missing_?”

Jade nods. “Yeah, in 1993. The Ministry kind of ignored it though, but Ron reckons…”

“1993, eh?” Harry asks, glancing over at Ron, who raises his eyebrows.

“Yep,” Stan adds, glancing over to Zayn encouragingly. “Zayn’s been doing some digging all the time you’ve been gone, but the Ministry just seems to have abandoned the case.”

Harry lets out a long breath. “I’m honestly not surprised, giving the timing and all,” he says. “So, what are we thinking? Is that significant?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Zayn says, surprising even himself. “He has no previous convictions, and at Hogwarts he was a model student and a Prefect in Slytherin. There’s not much to suggest anything bad, but Liam’s told me that his family is friends with a lot of other families with old-fashioned views on Muggleborns. From what I can tell, Geoff Payne – that’s Liam’s father – and Augustus Smyth were close mates and geographically the families both still live close. So.” He shrugs. “I think it’s probably immaterial, but it’s good that we know it, just in case.”

Harry nods once. “Alright,” he says slowly. “Thank you, Zayn.”

The door opens and Louis returns, a steaming mug of coffee in his hands. Harry takes it with a murmured thank you, then takes a grateful sip. Louis slinks back over to Zayn, dropping a hand onto the back of his neck and rubbing a thumb over the exposed skin. Zayn sinks into the touch gratefully.

Harry sets the mug on the desk and blows at the steam. Silence reigns over the office for a few moments, then Harry wraps his hand around his coffee mug and stands up.

“Right,” he says, then tilts his head towards the little room at the back. “Zayn, I suppose we better just get this conversation over with.” Zayn nods and stands up, knocking Louis’s hand back down. “After that, we’re gonna have words, all of us, about what happens now we have an official suspect on the cards, alright?”

Everyone hums their agreement, and Zayn reluctantly weaves his way around the desks to the little room in question. He hasn’t been in here much, just once when he was under Veritaserum. He really hopes he doesn’t have to go through that again but he wouldn’t be surprised. Pushing aside his nerves, he nudges past Harry into the little room and takes a seat at the desk. Harry locks the door and sits opposite him, folding his hands in front of him rather like a teacher would if they were reprimanding a naughty student.

Zayn sinks into his chair, feeling small and rather like that scolded student, when Harry just lets out a long sigh. “Zayn, _Zayn,_ ” he groans, and he doesn’t continue speaking until Zayn looks up. “Zayn, why did you do it?”

Rather taken aback, Zayn just stares for a couple of seconds before he answers, “what?”

Harry looks sad more than anything. “I mean, you fell in _love_ with him, Zayn. Of all the things I saw coming out of this case, it was not my best young Auror turning out to be a total tit and falling for the bloke we had pegged as a suspect.”

“I thought… I thought we decided a while back he wasn’t a suspect,” Zayn stammers out, trying not to get too excited about the words _best young Auror._ “And honestly, I… it was an accident, I swear. I didn’t know I had feelings for him until it was too late.”

Harry sighs. “Why didn’t you come to us, Zayn? Why didn’t you just tell me?” Zayn feels himself tense and he opens his mouth to reply, but then all of a sudden Harry’s pointing a finger in his face and he almost goes cross-eyed. “And don’t lie to me, please. I’ve really had enough of lies for one day.”

“Honestly?” Zayn says slowly. “I thought you would take Liam away from me. I thought you were going to tell him that we’ve been a lie, and that’s not fair because I’ve been telling him lies, yeah, but my feelings for him are real.”

Harry drums his fingers against the desk. “I should, you know,” he says glumly, and Zayn’s eyes go wide with panic and he opens his mouth to let out some kind of frenzied protest but Harry just keeps talking over him. “I’m not going to, but I should.” Zayn’s mouth snaps closed. “Look, Zayn, what you did was stupid, and we both know it, but I believe every word you say about Liam being in danger.” He picks a strand of hair off his sleeve slowly, like he’s unsure of what to say next. “If this man is on the loose somewhere, in England or in France or wherever the fuck he is, he clearly knows he can always come back to Liam for whatever he needs, and it wouldn’t surprise me if that’s how he’s going about this.” He sighs. “What… I didn’t tell you guys in there, but Fleur says there’s been a similar few murders in France, all using poisons and all on Muggleborn Witches and Wizards.” Zayn gulps. “Exactly. Our main problem now is jurisdiction issues, because France can’t hold him accountable for the murders in England, and vice-versa.”

“But when he’s caught, he’s still going to Azkaban for the rest of his life?” Zayn asks.

“Oh, of course,” Harry nods. “He’s dangerous and deluded, probably, so he’s going away for a long, _long_ time.”

“Good,” Zayn says. “That’s… that’s good.”

Harry nods once. “Look, Zayn… I’m not gonna fire you and I’m not going to do anything to potentially fuck up your relationship with Liam, because I don’t think that’s fair. You’re one of the best members of this team and we need you, frankly. You have more inside knowledge than the rest of us combined, and Liam trusts you and doesn’t question shit with you, which is what we need of him right now.”

Zayn could weep with joy. “Thank…”

“ _But,_ ” Harry cuts across him sternly, “I’m officially putting you on probation, because this can’t… _shit,_ Zayn, I wish I didn’t have to do this but you should have just come to me.”

“With all due respect, sir, I shouldn’t have,” Zayn says quietly, twisting his ring nervously. Harry’s eyebrows shoot up. “I did what I had to do to keep Liam, and it’s gotten us to the point where we were able to identify his memory loss and eventually Agrippa’s involvement, so yeah, I’m sorry, but I’m glad I didn’t come to you.”

Harry stares at him for a second, then says, “you’re a brave one, Zayn, you know that?”

Heat prickles over Zayn’s cheeks and he ducks his head. “I… I just needed to say it, you know?”

“I appreciate your honesty,” Harry answers, and okay, maybe it’s not the exact answer Zayn was looking for but he’ll take it. “It’s a little late, hence the probation thing, but I do appreciate it.”

Zayn coughs, unsure of what to say. For lack of anything better, he asks, “so what does me being on probation mean?”

“The lying was your first strike,” Harry explains. “Two more strikes and I’m going to have to… well, let’s not let it come to that, Zayn. We both know you’re too bright for that.”

“I… so… wait,” Zayn says dumbly. “You’re not mad about the feelings thing?”

“I was, fucking hell, I was earlier. I just… I couldn’t fathom it at all, you know? But now- perhaps taken aback is a better turn of phrase,” Harry says on an exhale. “Zayn, shit, it’s unprofessional as anything and you could have unknowingly put yourself in all manner of dangerous situations – well, you kind of have – but I don’t doubt for a second that you love him. It’s a bit daft and a bit unexpected, but you know. We’ve talked about it now and I trust you to do the right thing.” He hums and then smiles a little. “Look, I fell in love with my best mate’s little sister, alright? I _know_ what it’s like to have an internal crisis about it, and I know how terrifying it is when you realise you love someone that could get you in trouble.”

Zayn cracks a weak smile at that. “I’d forgotten about that,” he admits quietly. “But you’re right, I do wanna do the right thing and protect him for as long as I can. You know, until I inevitably have to break his heart.”

Harry’s face falls. “Why are you going to break his heart?” His eyes go wide. “Oh. When you, you know, come clean?”

Zayn nods forlornly. “Yeah. I mean, this morning when I left I basically blurted out I had to go and I think he knows that _I_ know I know more than I’m letting on. So I’m either going to have to break his heart tonight, or I’m going to have to tell him more lies that I’m never gonna live down when I eventually do come clean.”

Harry pauses and thinks for a moment. “I’m going to say something now, and I don’t think you’re going to like it.” Zayn hesitates but nods for Harry to go on. “I would rather you kept lying, I think.” He groans. “I know that’s rather hypocritical of me to say, considering I stuck you on probation for it and all, but I think if we’re talking about Liam’s safety here then it’s the safest road to go down.”

Zayn furrows his brows. “How do you mean?”

Harry clasps his hands. “Work with me for a second,” he says slowly. “So talk me through this morning, yeah? You were hiding under the bed when Agrippa came in so you only caught a glimpse of him?” Zayn nods. “What happened after?”

“I… I got a bit frantic, I’m not gonna lie,” Zayn says, and he scratches at the back of his neck nervously. “I kind of flung myself at him and then I asked him if he could remember some stuff, and he couldn’t, and then _he_ got a bit frantic. And then I just kind of fled.”

“Fled?”

“Yeah,” Zayn nods. “I told him I would be back later and I just left him there, like, practically in tears and shaking because he couldn’t remember the name of his sister’s little girl.”

“Merlin’s left bollock,” Harry mutters. “Then you came straight here?” Zayn nods. “Had you thought about what you’re gonna tell him yet?”

“Not really had the chance to,” Zayn mutters. “My current plan was just to panic plan something with Louis when we had a spare five minutes.”

Harry tuts. “I should have figured Louis knew. You two are something else.” Zayn stays quiet because there’s really no point in denying it. “Okay, okay, let’s have a think.”

They spend the rest of the morning locked in that little room, only snapped out of it once Ron comes and knocks on the door inviting them to lunch with the rest of the group. Harry claps Zayn on the shoulder as they leave, and Zayn has to admit he feels a thousand times better than he did this morning now the whole team (and especially Harry Potter) are aware of what’s going on. He falls back as the rest of the team trudge towards the exit in search of food, and as he hopes Louis’s waiting for him, two cigarettes held between his fingers.

“You look desperate for one of these,” Louis says knowingly, and Zayn groans and sidles over to him, pulling him into a tight hug. Louis hugs back, the sleeves of his denim jacket making it difficult to hold Zayn back comfortably but they both go with it. “Oh, babe. Was that terrible?”

“Quite the opposite, actually,” Zayn replies, voice muffled by Louis’s shoulder. He pulls back and gratefully takes one of the cigarettes, then leads the way to the smoking area. “He was pretty reasonable, you know, considering how pissed he was this morning and given the situation as a whole.”

“Yeah?” Louis says. “You haven’t been fired, I take it?”

Zayn pops the cigarette between his lips and shakes his head. “Not fired. I’m on probation though.”

Louis tilts his head to one side and pokes out his bottom lip. “I mean,” he starts slowly, like he’s mulling over his words carefully, “that’s better than what we were all expecting, I guess? Well. We didn’t really know what was gonna happen, if I’m honest. Not even Ron really had an idea.”

Zayn sighs and lights up his cigarette. “He was actually pretty reasonable for the most part. He did say he probably overreacted and stuff. He wanted me to know it was mainly the lying that bothered him, and we hashed that out a bit because he said I should have told him, and I said I’m glad I didn’t.”

Louis whistles disbelievingly. “Christ, Zayn. That’s fucking brave, that is.”

Zayn shrugs. “What else was I meant to give him? I’m not lying there – I’m glad I didn’t tell him. I mean, probation is gonna be a bit shit and a bit tense but it’s not the end of the world.”

Louis lets out a long exhale. “So what does this mean for Liam now?”

Zayn groans, because this is the thing he’s been dreading. “I’ve gotta tell him, like, a watered down version of the truth,” he says with a grimace. “Like, after the way I freaked this morning there’s no way I can get away with not telling him anything, so that’s my job for this evening.” He gives Louis a look. “Please don’t give me a lecture about this. I don’t need one from you on top of all this.”

Louis holds up his hands. “I wasn’t going to,” he says, voice slightly muffled around the filter of his cig. “I mean, you’ve gone a little green, so I’m assuming you don’t really need one.”

With a shake of his head, Zayn slumps against the wall and folds his arms. “No,” he admits sadly. “No, I don’t.”

Louis drops his cigarette into the special purple fire and pulls Zayn into a tight, tight hug. Zayn lets himself be held, and tries not to think about how tonight is going to change everything, probably for the worst.

*

“Liam?” he calls, knocking on his front door rather than letting himself in as he normally would. “Liam, are you in?”

There’s an almost painfully long pause, but the door does eventually creak open to reveal Liam on the other side. He looks sleepy and disorientated, like Zayn’s just woken him up. He’s not wearing his work clothes either – he’s dressed down in a pair of soft trackies that Zayn loves to steal and an old Quidditch top. He opens the door wordlessly and lets Zayn in, and Zayn’s barely had time to shrug off his backpack off before he has an armful of boyfriend and a face tucked into his neck. Zayn grips him back, breathing in his familiar smell and murmuring reassurances into his neck. It’s like they’ve been separated for a lot longer than the eight hours they actually have, and Zayn feels possibly the guiltiest he’s ever felt.

“Liam,” he croaks, nose pressed into Liam’s temple. “Liam, babe, it’s alright.”

“I missed you,” Liam breathes, and he pulls back enough for Zayn to see the fear in his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” Zayn asks incredulously. “Yeah, babe, I’m fine. Are you?”

“No,” Liam mumbles. “They, um, I got sent home from work, actually.”

Zayn’s mouth drops open. “Shit, Li, why?”

Liam shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I just wasn’t with it all day,” he says slowly, and he sounds tired. “I nearly spilled acid all over Olly’s arm, and then Neville got some kind of message and he just told me to leave, so.” He shrugs again. “Something’s up, I know it is, and Zayn, I…”

“Oh, babe,” Zayn says sadly, stroking a thumb across his cheekbones. “I know, I know. I’ve got…” He takes a deep breath. “I’ve got something to tell you, and it’s not gonna be fun but it’ll answer at least some of your questions and it’s… well.” He sighs and pulls himself out of Liam’s arms, then he shrugs off his denim jacket and takes a seat on the sofa. “First of all, I just need you to know that I am so, so unbelievably sorry.”

“Zayn,” Liam rasps, sitting down beside him and scrubbing a hand over his face. “You’re kinda scaring me a bit.”

“I know.” Zayn laughs humourlessly, and he wants to reach out and take Liam’s hand but he thinks he’s distanced them on purpose. “I’m sorry for that, too.”

“What do you have to be sorry for?” Liam asks, sounding more confused than anything else.

“I’ll start from the beginning,” Zayn says, and oh, fuck, he’s actually doing this. “Do you remember at Harry’s birthday drinks?” Liam nods once. “It was the first time you met all my friends, and also when Louis kind of blurted out that we were not just working as Aurors anymore, we were all working in this special team on this case.” He sighs. “I’m not allowed to talk much about my work, as you probably guessed, so I’d always try and deflect. But yeah, I’m actually a Field Auror working under Harry Potter, trying to track this killer.” He holds up his hands. “That’s my proper job.”

“Holy shit,” Liam mutters. “That’s… holy shit.”

“I know right?” Zayn says, trying for funny but he can tell it falls flat. He sighs once more. “About… four months ago, so about April time, we came across a lead in the case.” He snatches up Liam’s hand and squeezes it before Liam has the chance to pull away. “That lead was _you,_ Liam.”

Liam chokes on nothing. “What?” he splutters. “What? I… _what?”_ He grabs his hand back and hugs his arms around himself. “No, Zayn, that’s not… I’m not… I can’t be…”

“Hey, hey,” Zayn says in what he hopes is a soothing way. “I know that, babe. _We_ know that.”

“Who is we?” Liam asks, voice small. “What is going on?”

“Liam, babe, breathe for me,” Zayn says, shuffling forward and resting a hand on his thigh. Thanfully, he doesn’t move away. “The team knows you’re innocent, I promise. Harry Potter is on your side.”

“My side for what?” Liam asks desperately. “What am I supposed to have done?”

“I’m gonna tell you, but it’s not… it’s not going to be easy for you to hear,” Zayn says. “Oh, god, Liam, please can I hold your hand?”

Liam pauses for a few seconds and Zayn feels positively _awful,_ but he takes it in the end. “Okay,” he says slowly. “Tell me.”

Zayn takes a deep breath. “Okay,” he says, just as cautiously. “Can I just ask, before all this, when was the last time you spoke to Agrippa Smyth?”

“What?” asks Liam incredulously. “Like, months and months ago, why?”

“I was worried you were gonna say that,” Zayn mutters. “Would you believe me if I told you we believe him to be responsible, or at least involved, in these Muggleborn killings?”

Liam lets out something that sounds like a hysterical laugh, too high-pitched for it to sound like it came from him. “What the fuck?” he cries. “No, no, he can’t be, what the _fuck?_ I’ve known him since I was born, Zayn, and yeah, he’s a bit of a wanker but he’s not…”

“He was here this morning,” Zayn blurts. “I was under the bed because I heard you answer the door to him and he Cursed you.”

All the colour drains from Liam’s face. “What?” he says, slapping a hand over his mouth. “No, no, no, he… I would remember that. I would _know._ ”

Zayn draws Liam’s trembling hand up to his mouth and brushes a kiss across his knuckles. “Not if he uses _Obliviate_ afterwards, you wouldn’t,” he says sadly. “Which he did. I heard it all.”

“But _why?”_ Liam wails. “What the fuck could I possibly offer him? Why couldn’t… why didn’t he just ask me or something?”

Zayn chuckles darkly. “And would you have said yes? If your old best mate asked you for poisons and potions from the Ministry’s supplies?”

“What do you mean?” Liam asks, brows furrowing. “He’s… what, he’s Cursing me into handing over things from my work? Proper dangerous things.”

“Proper dangerous things, yeah,” Zayn confirms. “Things like arsenic and cyanide.”

“Merlin’s left bollock,” Liam whispers. “I… and I just didn’t know?”

“You didn’t know,” Zayn says. “But I did, and _Godric,_ Liam, I am so, so sorry.”

“You knew this whole time?” Liam asks, voice soft and hurt. “You knew and you didn’t try to stop it?”

“I… I didn’t know how,” Zayn says desperately. “I knew you’d be safe enough with me so I kept us close and fuck, Liam, I fucking love you so much. I’d do literally anything to protect you.”

Liam’s face is white as a sheet. “You… fuck,” he mumbles, and buries his face in his hands. “This is not… of all the ways I thought I’d hear those words from you, this was not it,” he admits despondently. “I love you too, though, in case that wasn’t obvious.”

Zayn smiles wetly despite it all. “Fuck, Liam, I love you. I’ve loved you for so long…”

“Same,” Liam sniffs, and he moves forward, reaching out for Zayn before he pauses, like he isn’t sure he’s allowed to. “Can I kiss you?”

Zayn nods hurriedly and wipes at his eyes. “Please,” he says. “Merlin, please kiss me.”

Liam moves forward and cups Zayn’s face ever so carefully. The kiss itself is tentative and slow, but it makes Zayn feel a hundred thousand times better because _Liam loves him._ He moves his own hands up to cup Liam’s cheeks and their lips move together like they were made to do so.

“I love you,” Liam whispers as they pull away. “I’m fucking upset, but I love you.”

“You have every right to be,” Zayn says, not quite meeting his eyes. “I have some more to tell you too, if you’ll listen.”

“Of course,” Liam nods, and he draws back but picks up Zayn’s hand and toys with his rings, like he likes to do when they’re relaxing in the evenings. “How much more?”

“Another pretty big something,” Zayn says. He feels so guilty that he has to take a couple of seconds first though. “So around the time we first realised you were involved, there was, um, a lot of pressure on me from the Ministry to end things with you.” Liam gasps. “Obviously it wasn’t like we’d been together a super long time, and they all sort of believed for a bit that you were actually coercing _me._ ”

“But…”

“I know,” Zayn says, firm but gentle. “I told them that was complete bullshit, and that you wouldn’t hurt a fly.” He takes a deep breath. “But then some things started to happen that I knew would prove you were innocent, so under Ministry guidance I… I let them happen, which I hate myself for, Liam, I feel _awful.”_

Liam frowns. “What did you do?”

Zayn presses his lips together, eyes fluttering shut. “The first time…” He takes a nervous gulp and grips Liam’s hand a little tighter before he barrels on. “The first time I realised you were losing your memory, it was just, like, we were only lying in bed. I could put it down to you being tired for a bit, you know?  But then it happened more and more, and it became almost unbelievable in parts.”

“And… and what?” Liam says, and bless him, he sounds so confused, so nervous, so unsure of what’s going on. “So you just… wait, how was my memory going?”

Zayn looks down at his lap. “Repeated exposure to the Memory Charm. Louis and I did some research and we found out that it was pretty common in medieval times, but the reigns have tightened on it a lot recently under Ministry protocol, so we didn’t really know much about it at first.”

“So I’m a pawn,” Liam says, his voice beginning to tremble. “I’m a pawn and the person I thought was one of my best mates has been using me to kill innocent people.”

“Sort of,” Zayn says tiredly. “You’ve never actually done the killing though, and we have enough evidence in your favour down at the Ministry so you won’t be charged for a thing.”

Liam whimpers and presses himself closer to Zayn, and Zayn has never moved faster in his life – he wraps Liam up in his arms and kisses him ever so slowly, then starts running a hand through his hair in that way he knows Liam loves.

“You’re safe with me,” he says gently, soothingly. “Now I know what – well, _who –_ I’m dealing with I’m absolutely not going to let anything happen to you.”

“How though?” Liam says miserably, sniffing into Zayn’s t-shirt. “I don’t… fuck, Zayn, just… can I have a minute?”

“Of… of course,” Zayn says dumbly, and he goes to pull out of Liam’s arms but Liam grips him tight. “Oh.”

“Please,” weeps Liam, and Zayn kisses his forehead and cuddles him even tighter. “Don’t go.”

“Not going anywhere, babe,” Zayn promises in a whisper. “I love you.”

Liam doesn’t say it back, but that’s okay. Zayn is happy to just hold him for as long as he needs, which turns out not to be as long as he was expecting. Only a few minutes later, without any real warning, Liam yanks himself back like he’s been stung, hugging his arms around himself. Zayn blanches.

“Liam?”

“You’ve been lying to me,” Liam hiccups, and his eyes are blazing a fire like Zayn has never seen. “You let me be manipulated and you… you let me believe I was going crazy or something.”

Zayn hangs his head. “I know,” he mumbles. He knows there’s no excuse. “I’m so fucking sorry, Liam, believe me. I thought… I thought I was doing what I had to, you know? I know it was stupid but I thought it was I needed to do to keep you safe in the long run.”

“By lying?” Liam hisses. “By making me lose even more of my fucking memory?” His eyes go wide and he claps a shaking hand over his mouth. “Will I ever get it back?”

“Yes,” Zayn says firmly. “I’ve put in an order for a Pensieve for you, and I’ve also asked down at St. Mungo’s for a course of Memory-Restoring potions. Everything’s going to be fine.”

Liam’s eyes narrow. “But I’m still not safe, am I?”

Zayn shakes his head. “Well, if I’m being completely honest…” he sighs, “I think you’re safe enough if you stay in mine and the Ministry’s protection, but Harry Potter thinks that possibly he was trying to frame you.”

Liam gapes at him. “Frame me for these murders?”

Zayn nods. “Yeah, and obviously now we know that not to be true.”

He hears Liam swallow. “So what happens now?”

“Well,” Zayn says slowly, because this is the bit he was really dreading, “that all depends on whether you want to stay with me or not.”

“As in, what, break up with you?” Liam says, his mouth dropping open. “ _What?”_

“Liam, I’ve been lying to you for months,” Zayn says desperately. “I completely understand if you don’t want to put your trust in me right now.”

Liam’s quiet for a long time, long enough for Zayn’s skin to feel itchy and for him to almost convince himself that this is, in fact, the end. He wouldn’t be surprised, of course he wouldn’t, he’s basically come pretty much clean, but he’s still technically lying to Liam and that makes him feel truly sick to the stomach. He can’t even imagine how it’ll go on the day when he does tell him he’s a massive phony, because he doesn’t think he can live with this guilt for much longer.

_It’s for the fucking case._

“I…” Liam starts, then after a heavy second of hesitation he reaches out and takes Zayn’s hand again. Zayn’s heart soars. “I don’t want to be without you. I don’t want to break up with you.”

“Really?” Zayn blurts. “I’d understand if you did.”

Liam shakes his head. “I mean, yeah, it’s gonna be weird and yeah, you did lie a lot which I’m really upset about, but, like, I need you. And I’m quite deeply in love with you, so there’s also that.”

“I love you too,” Zayn croaks. He leans forward and squeezes Liam’s hand. “Look, I think what would be best is if you started coming round mine, rather than us being here. That way Agrippa isn’t going to get in, and you’ll have two Aurors in the house rather than one.”

“Two Aurors?”

“Jade’s on the team with me,” Zayn explains. “I’ve talked to Niall and all and he’s happy for you to be round all the time. He’s even chill about Belle coming over with us.”

Liam runs a hand through his hair. “I hadn’t even thought about that,” he says with a humourless laugh. “I mean, are you sure?”

Zayn nods quickly. “Very sure, Li. I want you safe and I want you happy, so.”

Liam smiles a little, and at least that’s something. “Um, I guess, okay then?”

“Okay?” Zayn says, and he doesn’t even realise how hard his grip has tightened on Liam’s hand until Liam gently works his hand out of it, then leans forward to cup Zayn’s face.

“Okay,” he says softly. “I mean, I don’t know how, like, amicable I’ll be over the next few days because it’s a lot to take in, but yeah. Okay.”

“Fuck, Liam,” Zayn says before he surges forward and kisses him silly. “I fucking love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Liam says, and it’s almost timid. “Can I ask some more questions?”

“Of course,” Zayn says, thumb stroking gently over the back of Liam’s neck. “I’ll tell you anything you need to know.”

_Except about how I’m actually being paid to date you. If you’d broken up with me, I would have been out of a job and also completely heartbroken._

Liam nods. “Can I ask them as we pack?” He scratches at the back of his neck. “I feel kind of weird being in here now.”

“Sure,” Zayn says again. “Let’s get started and we’ll talk as we go?”

*

Liam’s move to Zayn’s flat is relatively painless, and within only a few days of him living there it feels like something they’ve just always done. The only added difference is that there’s another couple constantly around, but in a way Zayn thinks that this is going to do them good. Niall and Liam have already surpassed any awkwardness and Jade isn’t funny around him like Louis was, so the four of them merge into an easy living situation without any fuss.

Work, on the other hand, is hell. Panic levels seem to have been stepped up in more than just their department, and everyone is working harder than ever and for longer than ever. He often doesn’t finish until it’s dark outside, which, considering it’s summer, is a lot later than he’d care to stay.

There’s still no sign of Agrippa, which surprises literally nobody, but what they’re dealing with instead is death after death after death. Four happen in the space of a fortnight, which brings it back to a similar pace as it was at the beginning. This means either two things – there’s the (strong, in Zayn’s opinion) possibility that Agrippa’s realised they’re on to him, and as such is trying to get as much of his ‘work’ done before they get to him, or (in Harry Potter’s opinion) the operation spreads a lot wider than just this one man.

“I’m fucking knackered,” Louis yawns to him one evening, slamming his heavy book shut. He, like Zayn, has dark circles under his eyes and looks bored out of his mind. They’ve been sat at the same table for nearly eight hours now. “I want to go home. I want to see my fucking fiancé at least once this week, and I want to sleep until I wake up naturally, not by some shitty alarm.”

“I hear ya,” Zayn groans, mirroring Louis and closing his book. “I want a cig, a curry, and a fucking cuddle.”

Louis whines. “Harry?” he calls over to the main desk, where Harry Potter is surrounded by scrolls and stacks of parchment galore. “Harry, no offence, mate, but can we go home?”

Harry glances at his watch. “Merlin, is it really half ten already?” he asks, then pulls a face. “Sorry, guys. Yeah, feel free to go.”

Zayn and Louis both stand up, Louis already rifling for his cigarettes. “You should go home too, you know,” Zayn says to Harry. “We all need some time to chill, I think. It’s getting all a bit too frantic.”

Harry moans. “I know, I know. I just feel like we’re so close, you know? I just want to power through, like, work as much as we can until we actually find the guy. Or guys.”

“You’re at least taking the time off to come to the wedding, aren’t you?” Louis jokes. “Do I still get the time off?”

Harry snorts. “Of course I’m not going to work through your wedding,” he says dryly. “And obviously I’m not going to make you cancel your wedding to work through it.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “Is that the kind of boss I’ve turned into?”

Louis grimaces. “Only a little,” he admits. “You have been working us pretty hard. It’s been a pretty draining few weeks.”

“It’s been a horrible few weeks,” Harry says bluntly. “I don’t know how else we could have acted. Imagine how heavy Luna and the rest of the Ministry would be on our backs if we weren’t working this hard.”

“Which is totally understandable,” Zayn says, smiling sadly at him. “But we’re just… we’re both knackered, I’m sorry.”

“It’s pretty difficult trying to catch a killer and plan a wedding at the same time,” Louis adds. He yawns and covers his mouth with his palm. “Sorry, Harry, I know it’s not your fault but, like…”

“Hey, no, I get it, I do,” Harry says, matching Louis’s yawn. “Your schedules were full on before, and now they’re just crazy busy and it can barely leave time for sleep.” He waves his hand towards the door. “Go. All of you. Come in at noon tomorrow, get yourselves a good night’s sleep.”

Zayn can’t help the grin that spreads across his face at Harry’s words, elbowing Louis playfully as they duck out the room together. Louis’s smirking, rubbing his hands together with glee.

“Harry’s doing the evening shift tomorrow,” he tells Zayn merrily. “God, tomorrow is gonna be an incredible morning.”

“Aw, Lou,” Zayn pretends to coo. “Have a fabulous time going through your missionary motions for the first time since your engagement.”

Louis raises his eyebrows and his middle finger in sync. “Fuck you too,” he says sweetly as he taps his wand against the portrait, letting them out the office. “What are you gonna do then? Fuck Liam with a hand over his mouth so you don’t wake Niall and Jade?”

Zayn cuffs him lightly over the back of the head. “Yes, that exactly.” He pauses. “Oh, shit, hang on. Did you get that holiday form from Ron?”

“Oh, bollocks,” Louis swears. “Nah, I forgot. Will you remind me tomorrow?”

Zayn rolls his eyes but he nods anyway. “Yeah, sure. I’m gonna need one too anyway, same as everyone.”

Louis pulls a face. “Do you think everything will go to shit if the whole team spends one day at my wedding?”

Zayn shrugs. “Well, I mean, I doubt it? And it’s your wedding, Lou. You can’t just let everything stop in the whole world for this one guy, it’s almost like that’s what he wants.” He opens the door to the Floo Network and holds it open with his shoulder, letting Louis trudge in first. “Living well is the best revenge and all that.”

“Would hardly call getting married to Harry revenge,” Louis says.

“You _know_ what I mean.”

“I do,” Louis says, fishing around in his pocket for some Sickles. He hands two over to Zayn, and takes two for himself. “See you tomorrow, oh wise one.”

“Bye,” Zayn says, watching as Louis disappears with a puff and a crackle. He takes Louis’s money and drops it into the dish, which opens the little urn of Floo Powder for him, then he steps into a fireplace of his own and Floos home.

Once he’s walked the few short minutes home and let himself into his flat, he peels off his socks and shoes and pads barefoot into the kitchen. Niall, Liam, and Jade are all sat around the kitchen table with a bottle of wine between them, and he doesn’t even have to say anything for Niall to be pouring him a glass, thank Merlin.

“Alright?” he calls. “You’re back late again.”

Zayn shrugs, opening the fridge and pulling out the plate of dinner he asked Liam to save for him. He taps his wand against the plate to heat up the food – it’s curry, bless everything and everyone – then he carries it over to the table to join them, almost tripping over Belle in the process.

“Yeah, it’s been a hell of a day if I’m honest,” he says. He could almost cry at how good this curry smells. “Potter’s been on and on at us to get this one bit done but me and Lou are at a dead end with it. Again.”

Jade furrows her brows and Liam reaches over, stroking a soothing hand over his thigh. He takes a huge, steaming mouthful of rice and leans his head against his shoulder.

“What are you stuck on?” Jade asks. “Do you need some help?”

Zayn shrugs again. “I don’t know. Maybe. What are you and Cher doing at the moment?”

“Family tracing,” Jade explains. “We’ve been checking to see if there is any point in the Smyth family tree where one of their paths would have crossed with a Dark Wizard, or even You Know Who.”

Zayn nods and swallows. “Anything?” he asks as he spears a piece of beef. Jade shakes her head.

“Nothing concrete, nothing viable,” she says. She picks up her wine glass. “We’re back about two hundred years now but we got nout.”

“Merlin,” Zayn groans. He takes a welcome glug of wine. “I’m honestly just so tired, you guys. I’ve been reading these books with the smallest fucking print all day and my head is fucking pounding.”

Liam kisses him on the temple. “Your poor thing,” he says as he strokes a soothing hand up and down his back. “Are you in at eight tomorrow again?”

“Nope, thank Godric,” Zayn says happily. “Harry’s given me and Lou the morning off because we’ve worked these four late nights in a row. I’m going in at twelve.”

“Lucky bastard,” Jade grumbles, then yawns. “I’m gonna head to bed, I think, if I’m still in at nine. Ni, you coming?”

“Yeah,” Niall says, draining the rest of his wine. “We’re turning in, guys. Have a good night and a good morning if I don’t see you.”

“You’ll see me,” Liam tells him. “I’m also in at nine.”

Niall nods, then squeezes past and gives them both claps on the shoulder. “Fair play, man, see you in the morning.”

“Night guys,” Zayn says, then yawns himself. “I am so fucking tired, Li, fucking hell.”

Liam hums sympathetically and cuddles him in. “Do you want me to run you a bath or something?”

“No, I’d rather I just got into bed with you,” Zayn says honestly. “I need a million and one back rubs.”

“You got it,” Liam grins, and he nuzzles his nose against Zayn’s shoulder like a cat. “You smell good.”

Zayn snorts. “I probably smell like stuffy office and cheese and onion crisps.”

“You smell like you,” Liam hums. “Like cigs and your cologne and just you.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” asks Zayn, giggling to himself.

“Definitely a good thing,” Liam promises. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Zayn says, turning his head for a slightly greasy kiss. “I’ve missed you.”

“You’ve got me for a whole eight hours,” Liam grins. “Once you’ve finished that we can go to bed and cuddle or sleep or anything you want.”

“Cuddles and sleep,” Zayn nods. “It’s all I want.”

Liam’s beam is brighter than the sun. “Cool,” he says. “I’m sure it can be arranged.”

*

“He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Louis snuffles, dabbing his eyes on the collar of Zayn’s nice shirt. Zayn doesn’t know why he bothered to dress up – what he should have expected from Louis’s stag do was a rather weepy lapful of boy, really.

“I know he is, babe,” he says back, patting Louis rather condescendingly on the back. “I know.”

“He’s just so… he’s just so good,” Louis slurs, wiping his nose on the side of his hand before reaching for his drink, which just so happens to be an entire bottle of wine. He grips it by the neck and chugs, and Zayn rolls his eyes and tries to (unsuccessfully) pry it from his hands. “Oi, s’mine!”

“Louis, it’s making you cry,” Zayn says flatly. “And everyone else has already moved on to another bar.”

“It’s not the wine that’s making me cry,” Louis protests, clutching the wine to his chest. “It’s my boy. He’s my one and my only. My darling, my dream, my boat. My _dreamboat,_ Zayn. He’s my… he’s my snugglemuffin.”

“I fucking hate you,” Zayn sighs, waiting for Louis to finish his long glug before attempting once more to wrestle the bottle off of him. “I could have lived a long and happy life without knowing you and Harry call each other snugglemuffin.”

“Never called him that before,” Louis says, and he sounds surprised at himself. “But it’s true. His cuddles are out of this world. Legendary!”

“Right, come on,” Zayn says, finally prising Louis’s tight little fingers off the bottle and tugging him up and off his seat. “Next bar, come on. We need to find the others.”

“Will Harry be there?” Louis asks, brightening up.

“No,” Zayn says flatly, then sighs as Louis pouts and starts hunting around for his wine again. “ _Fuck,_ Louis! Come on!”

“I want more wine,” Louis demands, whining as Zayn tugs him by the wrist out the door. “I want more wine, Zaaayn.”

“You can have more wine when we’ve caught everyone else up,” Zayn snaps, then sighs regretfully as Louis just stops walking and his bottom lip starts to tremble again. “No, Lou, fuck, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry again.”

Louis sniffs and rubs at his nose, before sidling up to Zayn and wrapping his arms around his waist. Zayn hugs back easily, right there in the middle of the busy London street, only flipping off a couple of drunk idiots who think it’s funny to catcall them. Louis’s shivering in the cool 2am air, but he hugs Zayn for a few minutes tightly before he pulls back and works to clear his throat a bit.

“Zayn,” he says, voice thick and drunk and with his teeth chattering a bit. “Zayn, I’m sorry.”

“What for, babe?” Zayn says, gentler than before. He didn’t mean to get annoyed, he really didn’t, but he’s cold and stressed and Liam is alone with his drunk mates and he really wishes he was there with them. That’s not an excuse to yell at his best mate on his stag night though. “It should be me apologising to you, really.”

“I love you,” Louis says seriously, looking him straight in the eye. “You’re my best mate, and you’ve always told me if I’m being a dick.”

Zayn groans. “You’re not being a dick, Lou. I mean, I’m not really sure why you’ve been crying, or why you told everyone to fuck off except me…”

“I… I did?” Louis hiccups, then his face starts to crumple again. “Oh, oh fuck.”

“This is supposed to be the second best night of your life, Lou,” Zayn says, aware he’s probably sounding a bit desperate now. “Louis, _Lou._ Why are you sad?”

“I just miss Harry,” Louis bursts, sniffing and sobbing and sighing all at once. Zayn opens his mouth to comment on how silly that is of him, no offence, but Louis starts babbling before he can. “It’s been so shit between us recently, you know it has, and now I’m scared he’s going to be doing something dumb on his own stag night and I can’t stop thinking about it…”

“Oh, Lou,” Zayn says, barely louder than a whisper. He cuddles him in again and kisses the top of his head. “You know he wouldn’t. You do know that, I know you do. You’re being a silly bugger.”

“I know,” Louis shouts, but it’s muffled by Zayn’s shoulder. “But then why do I think it? Why, Zayn? Why?”

“Because you’re drunk, and a bit of a daft old sod,” Zayn says, scratching at the back of Louis’s neck comfortingly. “It’s your night, babe. I want it to be your night to celebrate. I want you to stop crying, oh Lou, _please._ ”

“I just want to be happy drunk,” Louis whines, pulling back and looking up at Zayn sadly. “Maybe I shouldn’t have had all that wine.”

“Maybe not,” Zayn agrees. He leads them out of the main street and onto the steps of a dilapidated building, probably a club that closed down and nobody wanted to buy. “Oh, Lou, smile for me. Please smile for me. It’s your bloody stag night.”

“I wanna – _hiccup –_ party properly but I think I’ve forgotten how,” Louis moans forlornly, his head in his hands. Zayn pulls at his shoulders so he’s sat up properly and he pouts for a second before he slumps against him. “Why do I miss him so much, Zayn?”

“Because you’re a drama queen who is also engaged, and as such you’re a bit whiny and a lot in love,” Zayn says sagely. “But in all honesty, babe, I don’t think sitting on some crappy steps outside a Muggle club crying to me about it is gonna make you feel much better.”

Louis sniffs and wipes his snotty face on the back of his hand weakly. “Imagine if we saw a Boggart right now,” he slurs, now wiping his hands on his trousers. Zayn raises his eyebrow. “No, seriously, wait a second. Like, I’m serious. I really wanna talk about this.”

“Alright, Lou,” Zayn says, leaning forward to mop the tears that Louis’s missed with the cuff of his sweatshirt. “What would I see, is that what you want to know?”

“When you did it in Third Year, what did you see?” Louis asks, and his expression is set deep and serious. He’d probably look quite intimidating if he wasn’t swaying so much, and his eyes didn’t keep flickering between open and closed. “The sea?”

“Yeah,” Zayn nods, shuddering at the memory. The Boggart had zoomed right up to him as a huge, intimidating wave, practically a tsunami, and he’d nearly crumbled. “Was horrible. Why, what was yours?”

“At the time, it was something hauling away one of me little sisters,” Louis sniffs. “It was Fizzy back then, dunno how they worked it out or whatever, but I saw little Fiz get carried off screaming by some huge dark thing.”

“Merlin, Lou,” Zayn mutters. “That’s fucking horrible.”

“It was,” Louis says. “But now, like, all I think about these days is, like, that huge dark thing, but instead of going for my sisters it’s going for Harry. I keep having nightmares about it and all.”

“Oh, Lou,” Zayn says, and he curls his arm back around Louis’s back and cuddles him in. “Why would you let yourself think about stuff like that, you daft thing?”

“Can’t help it,” Louis mumbles. “I feel like a right prat though, Christ. I know nothing bad is gonna happen, and yet it’s all I can think about.” He sniffs again loudly. “He’s not gonna be taken from me, is he?”

His voice sounds so small and he looks so terrified that Zayn’s heart breaks a little. “Of course not, Lou,” he sighs sadly, pressing his lips into Louis’s hair. “You’re getting married in three weeks, love. He’s not leaving you, and nobody is going to take him. I mean, who would even take him?” He regrets the words as soon as they leave his lips, because Louis opens his mouth to give a fairly obvious answer. He slaps a hand over his mouth hurriedly. “He’s _not,_ Lou. Don’t you _dare_ let yourself think that.”

“But,” Louis hiccups, bottom lip jutting out to rub wetly against Zayn’s palm, “but what if…?”

“No,” Zayn says firmly. “I’m not letting you think that, Lou. For one, and no offence, but he’s already hurt you in the way he wanted to, so there’s that. And secondly, he’s not Liam, so I’m not even going to let you think he’s coming for your boy when it’s just a little more feasible he’s coming for mine.”

Louis’s face falls. “Shit, Zayn, I didn’t mean it like that…”

“No, I know,” Zayn says, and he leans in to accept the kiss Louis moves to press into his cheek. “And I didn’t mean to snap, but I’m just… the huge dark thing isn’t just a Boggart for me, alright? It’s a very real thing that’s constantly in the back of my mind, and yeah, maybe that’s what I’d see if I looked at a Boggart right now.”

Everything just got too real too fast, and Zayn slumps against Louis, who cuddles him in and mumbles something slurred that could be “I’m sorry” but could also be “love you Zaynie”, he isn’t sure. He accepts the hug anyway and lazily flips off some passers-by who think it’s okay to scream “fags!” at them, sighing miserably.

“Zayn,” Louis says, and his voice is still slurred but Zayn can tell he really means this to be serious. “Zayn, I never meant it like that, you _know_ I would never…”

“I know, babe, I do know,” Zayn sighs, but he _is_ exasperated. “But you’re also pissed, and probably overtired.” He sighs again. “Do you want to go home?”

Louis hesitates but he shakes his head. “No,” he says forlornly. “I _want_ to be enjoying my stag do.” He hiccups. “Do you think I should drink more?”

“Not really,” Zayn says flatly. “I think you actually need to do the opposite and sober up just a little bit, and then you’ll be better.”

Louis pouts. “Sober? On my stag night?”

Zayn groans and hauls himself to his feet, then stands in front of Louis and takes both his hands, then yanks him upright too. Louis stumbles and topples into Zayn, but instead of crashing them down Louis clings on and just hugs Zayn in the middle of the pavement for a little longer.

“Lou?” Zayn says after Louis’s been humming into his middle for about two minutes. “Louis. Come on. Let’s get back to the others, yeah, and we’ll chat about this when we’re a little more sober.”

“You’re my bestest friend in the whole wide bloody world,” Louis’s mumbling, apparently oblivious to the fact that Zayn’s trying to have a conversation with him. “I want you to be happy, Zaynie Paynie.” He hiccups again, then giggles. “When you and Liam get married then you’ll be Zaynie Paynie. That’d be fucking funny, bro.”

Zayn rolls his eyes and grips both of Louis’s skinny wrists, unwinding them from around him and steadying him upright. “ _If_ ,” he corrects, and he hates the way his voice goes all funny and his pulse starts racing at just the thought of marrying Liam. “And anyway, surely if we’re focusing on any wedding right now it should be yours. It’s your bloomin’ stag night.”

Louis looks genuinely confused for a second. “Shit,” he says dumbly after a strange few seconds of quiet, “Zayn, I’m getting married. To Harry. In, like…” He starts to count on his fingers but Zayn really doesn’t see him actually succeeding in getting the number right, “a few days?”

“Yes, babe,” Zayn says dryly. He has a sneaking suspicion that Louis’s already forgotten their entire conversation. “Hey, do you want to go back into the club?”

Louis brightens up at that, and Merlin, you would not have thought he was a snivelling mess not five minutes ago. “Er, _yes,_ ” he says, then stumbles a little as he tries to lead the way. “Why aren’t we there now? What are we doing out here anyway?”

Clearly there’s a lot to be said about the wonders of alcohol.

“Talking… never mind, do you want to smoke?” Zayn asks distractedly, using one hand to dig around in his pockets for his cigarettes, the other keeping a tight grip on Louis’s wrist so he doesn’t wander into the road. Considering he’s a Muggleborn, Louis seems to have a ridiculously low awareness of cars. “Come _here,_ you fucking… oh my god, get out the road!”

Louis topples back onto the pavement and drops back onto the steps with an, “oof!” Zayn doesn’t even hide his eye roll as he lights one cigarette and then hands it over to him, then lights one up for himself.

“You’re a bloody liability.”

Louis’s hardly listening, slumped against the hand rail of the steps. His eyes are closed, and he goes to take a drag of his cigarette and misses. “I am fantastic,” he drawls instead of really replying. “And I am getting married.” He takes another (proper) drag from the cig and then stands up, climbing to the top of the steps and flinging his arms open wide. “I’m getting married!” he yells to the entire street. “I’m getting fucking married!”

There are several whoops and cheers from people down the street, and someone even shouts back a, “can I come to the wedding?”

“No,” Louis screeches. “It’s already costing me a fucking fortune.”

He’s met with a laugh, and even Zayn is laughing by now. Despite the aching feeling of nerves in his gut that won’t seem to shift, he hops up the steps to join his best mate and throws his arms wide to match. “And I’m the best man!”

“He’s the best man!” Louis joins in, slinging an arm over Zayn’s shoulders. “He’s my fucking best man and my fucking best mate!”

“Shut the fuck up!” someone yells back, and Louis just raises his middle finger up in the vague direction the voice came from before he plops back down and takes another puff on his fag.

“Fuck them,” he says up to Zayn, who steps down and retakes his seat next to him. “We don’t know them. We don’t _need_ them.”

“What are you talking about?” Zayn can’t help but laugh. “They’re just pissed, and so are you, dickhead.”

Louis throws his head back and laughs like Zayn’s just said the funniest thing in the whole world. He drops his cigarette over the side of the stairs and stands up clumsily, swaying a little, but he manages to step down onto the pavement without slipping and cracking his skull. “Let’s go dance,” he says, holding out his hand for Zayn to take. “I’ll buy you some shots. And then more wine!”

“Not more wine,” Zayn mutters, but he follows Louis regardless, grabbing him by the shoulders just before he tries to go into the completely wrong club. He nudges him forward and manages to Confund the bouncers so they don’t question how drunk Louis is with relatively no trouble.

The club is rammed, the artificial lighting too bright too soon after sitting on the dark streets, and the bass and the chatter much too loud for conversation. With a hand curled firmly around Louis’s bicep, Zayn weaves them through the sea of Muggle party-goers, blinking through the brightness to try and spot their group. He tries to seek out Liam, because not only is Liam one of the tallest but he knows his boyfriend is probably looking for him too.

And bless him for it, really, because after only a few minutes does Zayn feel a hand on his shoulder, a hand he knows well. Grinning, he tugs Louis forward so they’re both side by side, then passes him towards Niall so he can cup Liam’s face and drag him down for a much needed kiss. Liam complies easily, hands finding Zayn’s hips to pull their bodies closer so they don’t get separated in the throng of dancers.

“Sorry about that,” Zayn shouts in Liam’s ear. “Lou had a bit of a breakdown. He’s too drunk, bless him.”

Liam cranes his neck to look behind him, but Louis’s disappeared, probably at the bar with Stan and Niall. “Is he alright now?” he asks loudly. “Poor bloke.”

“He’ll be fine,” Zayn tells him. “He’s just a bit weepy and a bit mopey because he misses Harry. But what else is new?”

Liam grins. “They’re in love and they’re about to get married, let them live,” he teases. “Focus on me instead.”

Zayn smirks and fits his lips to Liam’s easily, blocking out the thumping base and the dancing bodies and the best friend drama. It’s a stag night, and he’s going to bloody enjoy it, regardless.

*

He does _not_ enjoy the hangover.

Liam’s already awake as he drifts reluctantly back into consciousness. His gentle fingers start to stroke up Zayn’s bare back as he rolls over and groans into the pillow. “Why? _Why?_ ” he whines. “Leeyum!”

Liam giggles and noses at his shoulder, then lets his arm slide down and hang loosely across the small of Zayn’s back. “Because it was your best mate’s stag night, you mess,” he laughs. “Do you even remember what happened in that final bar?”

“Not a thing,” Zayn whines. “Voice down, please.”

Liam snorts. “Louis bought you six of these Muggle shots – I think they were called absinthe? And you drank them all and then grinded on me to a song that everyone else was slow dancing during.”

“Oh, no,” Zayn says, muffled through a mouthful of duvet. “Oh, no, no, no, _no…_ ”

“There’s more,” Liam says. “You climbed up on the cage dancer’s podium and started screaming that you loved me. That was quite nice.”

Zayn grins at that, rolling over into Liam’s arms properly and tucking his face into his chest. “Well, I wasn’t wrong,” he mumbles. “I do love you quite a bit.”

“I love you too,” Liam says, kissing the little space between his eyes. “Do you want some coffee?” Zayn hums happily. “I’ll even put some Hangover Draft in it. I have an abundant supply now cos we’ve been closing down stockrooms all across London, and us lot have been allowed to take some of the more useful stock.”

“You’re very wonderful and I love you very much,” Zayn says, very seriously. “You can stay.”

“Oh, can I now?” Liam says, climbing back onto the bed and hovering over Zayn’s duvet clad body. He’s wearing a pair of Zayn’s pyjama bottoms that are way too small, and if Zayn wasn’t inches from certain death he’d make a comment on how wonderful Liam’s bulge looks. Instead, he makes a sad noise as he has to roll over onto his back, but he wraps his arms around Liam’s neck anyway and kisses him on the nose, mindful of morning breath. “That’s very kind of you.”

“Well, you know me,” Zayn murmurs. “I’m a kind soul. An accommodating, wonderful boyfriend.”

“And yet I’m the one making the coffee,” Liam says with an eye roll. Zayn pats his cheek.

“Yes, you are, my lovely boyfriend,” he says with a smile. “Thank you, baby.”

Liam kisses his forehead then clambers off the bed again with an eye roll. Zayn pretends to wave him off before he collapses back against his pillows, rolling over to bury his nose into the one Liam was sleeping against. It smells like his cologne and a little like sweat, but it’s very comforting nonetheless. He can hear Liam talking to someone, probably Belle, and then he hears him start to sing. After a while, Jade’s voice joins in, and then so does Niall’s, followed by loud, rambunctious laughter.

Even though Zayn’s not in there with them, he couldn’t be happier.

They’re going to be okay.


	8. Descendo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry again for the late posting! work sucks, I know.
> 
> which leads me on to a little issue i've been having. due to work having taken over my life and also a minor family emergency, i'm nowhere near as ready with chapter nine as i would like to be. therefore I may be a little later posting next week, please don't eat me alive.
> 
> BUT i was thinking about maaaaybe opening character asks on [my tumblr](http://lillourry.tumblr.com) if that's something people would be interested in? leave me a comment down below, or simply drop me one to get the ball rolling? if nobody cares then let's pretend i never typed this out.
> 
> anyway, this chapter is long and probably the angiest thing i've ever written in my entire fic writing history. enjoy the wedding, my lovelies!

It’s the day before his wedding, and Louis’s lost Harry.

Realistically he knows he hasn’t fled, but waking up to an empty bed and an empty house is a bit unnerving. He makes a move downstairs in nothing but his pants and makes himself a tea, turning on the telly for a bit of background noise as he goes. There are no notes on the kitchen counter either, which strikes him as a little odd. He’s used to waking up to a little letter pinned to the fridge, usually _gone to tesco_ or _just nipped to mum’s xoxoxox_ followed by a dozen hearts in Harry’s loopy scrawl.

He sits down on the sofa with his mug and even strokes the cat for a bit as he watches some inane cooking show on whatever channel Harry’s left it on. The opening bars to the next show are just playing when he hears the key in the lock, and he fights down the urge to jump up and into Harry’s arms because that would just be unnecessary.

“Babe?” Harry calls from the hall, and Louis hears the sound of him kicking his shoes off. When he emerges through the living room door he beams, bright and wide, at the sight of his fiancé, which makes Louis’s stupidly sappy heart skip a beat. He looks a little rain damp and flustered, and he’s got four carrier bags that are full to bursting clutched in one large hand. “Well, well, well,” he drawls, taking in the sight of practically naked Louis. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

“Good morning to you too,” Louis says, and he finally hops to his feet and wanders over, resting his hands on Harry’s hips and grinning up at him. “Mmm, I missed you when I woke up this morning.”

“Yeah?” Harry bites his lip. “I just needed to get some last bits before tomorrow.”

“That’s okay,” Louis hums. “I hear I get to wake up to you pretty permanently after tomorrow, I’m sure I’ll live.”

Harry squeals and drops the bags, instead using his hands to cup Louis’s face and kiss him. It starts off close-mouthed and Louis grins into it, but just as he’s about to pull back Harry parts his lips and licks into him, pressing their bodies as close as humanly possible. There’s a chance they’re both going to be as insatiable as each other for the rest of the day. Longer than that, probably.

When they do finally pull apart, Louis’s head is spinning and he feels a little breathless. He keeps his fists clutched in the front of Harry’s top and he grins to mirror Harry’s cheeky smirk. “Damn, Styles,” he teases. “Is that a tiepin in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?”

“Both,” Harry giggles. He wraps an arm around the back of Louis’s shoulders and starts frogmarching him towards the stairs, and he just keeps laughing when Louis nearly trips over a stray shoe and lets out a loud, indignant squawk.

“You can’t almost kill me the day before our wedding and be chill about it,” he huffs indignantly, his grip on Harry tightening so much that it almost rips his shirt open. “Harry. Oi. What are you doing?”

“Taking you upstairs,” Harry says simply, then lifts Louis up like he weighs nothing. Louis yelps and wraps his legs around Harry’s waist quickly, clinging to him like a baby in arms. “Gonna ravish you one last time as two single guys.”

“Two single guys?” Louis grumps, flicking Harry precariously on the nose as he hoists him up the stairs. “You haven’t been single in such a long time, mister. You have _no_ idea what it means to be a single guy.”

Harry sticks out his tongue and the tip of it brushes against Louis’s nose, making him squirm.

“Harry!”

“Shut up or I will drop you,” Harry huffs, almost stumbling over the last step. Louis slams his hand against the wall, steadying them while Harry gets his gangly limbs in order, then tuts.

“You are such a danger.”

“I am trying to be romantic,” says Harry. Louis giggles and brings his hand away from the wall, instead fisting it in Harry’s hair and bringing their mouths together. It’s a little awkward and uncomfortable snogging like this, but there’s not much on earth that could convince Louis to do otherwise right now. He pulls back and thumbs softly over Harry’s bottom lip, which makes Harry grin and flick his tongue out.

“You’re so gross,” Louis complains loudly, wiping his damp fingertips on Harry’s cheek. Harry shrugs as best he can with an armful of fiancé and he kicks open their bedroom door probably a bit too hard. Louis yelps as he’s tossed onto the bed (it’s not really a toss so much as a gentle putting down, but he’s miffed regardless) and he makes grabby hands for him until Harry yanks his jumper off over his head and then hops onto the bed to cover Louis’s smaller body with his own.

“Hi there.”

“Hi yourself,” Louis hums happily, chuffed as balls now he’s on his bed with his boy, both of them half-naked and smiling at each other like they could just stay here all day and they don’t have a thousand and one things to do. In all honesty, Louis’s quite surprised at how chilled out Harry seems, but then he remembers just how organised he’s been for the past few months (and also just how much they’re paying for everything to be perfect). Even so, he thinks it’s probably best to remind him that their wedding is, in fact, tomorrow. “You’re surprisingly less stressed than I thought you were going to be.”

Harry rests his cheek on Louis’s bare chest and curls his body around him. “That’s because everything is mostly sorted,” he mumbles tiredly. “I’ve been up since half four Flooing around.”

“What?” Louis asks incredulously, nearly dislodging Harry entirely as his body jerks to sit up. “Half four?” Harry nods. “Babe, why didn’t you wake me up?”

Despite the angle, Louis can tell Harry is rolling his eyes. “Yeah, right,” he drawls, and then yawns again. “Like you would have done anything other than smacked me if I’d nudged you awake at half four and asked you to Floo over to the venue with me to look at table settings.”

He has a point, but Louis keeps pouting anyway. He brushes a hand through Harry’s hair, thumbing softly over the top of his ear. “Where else have you been then?”

“Florists,” Harry says, turning his head so he’s resting on his other cheek and he can sort of look at Louis. “Then Mum’s house for breakfast and to look at the cake. Oh, Lou, it’s so beautiful. And then I went to get confetti to take to the venue, because apparently it’s policy to provide your own these days, and I also got some food for our room because I know you’ll grumble if you’re not fed at all times of the day. Then just a few other little bits. Oh, and I dropped Hermione off at the cattery.”

“You are a gift,” Louis smiles, leaning down awkwardly to peck Harry wetly on the nose. “You’re brilliant. I am marrying a wonderful thing.”

Harry lifts his head enough to kiss just below Louis’s nipple. “I know. I’m pretty amazing.” He grins and digs his chin into Louis’s ribcage. “Lou. _Lou._ We’re getting married. _Tomorrow._ ”

Louis’s grin is big, wide, and merry as Harry pushes himself up and into his arms properly, and when their lips meet it’s the best feeling in the world. Harry’s smiling just as much as Louis is, but they keep the kiss going regardless because they’re both sappy and terrible. He’s honestly never been happier than he is in this one moment.

With Harry suitably distracted, he clings on then hooks a leg over the back of both of Harry’s legs so he can flip them over. Harry goes easily, laughing as Louis topples down on top of him harder than he meant to, and then he draws him back in for another lazy kiss. Louis pillars Harry in, pressing their crotches together as they snog, and when he draws the desired smirk from Harry he shuffles down a bit so he can start to unbutton his dumb tight trousers.

Propping himself up on his elbows, Harry watches as Louis struggles to peel the denim down his legs without offering much help other than the occasional hip wiggle. Louis stops what he’s doing to glare.

“Do you want your arse eaten or not?”

Harry snorts. “Yes. I’d rather you kiss me, to be fair, but I’ll never say no to that.”

“Right,” Louis says exasperatedly and then gives the jeans an almighty yank, almost taking Harry with them. “I know I’m marrying you and all, and part of our life promises to each other include one never giving the other anything less than a completely stellar rimjob, but that is a bad attitude, Mr. Styles, and frankly a half-hearted rimjob is probably all you deserve right now.”

Harry hasn’t stopped grinning, and Louis rolls his eyes.

“What?” he says, ignoring Harry’s pants in favour of crawling back over him, pinning his wrists above his head and trying not to let the way Harry just goes for him so easily affect his composure or his cock (it’s not really working). “What is that face for?”

“I get you forever,” is all Harry responds with, and if Louis were a stronger man he’d tell him off for being too distracting. “I’m Mr. Styles today, but as of tomorrow I’ll be Mr. Tomlinson-Styles. I’m just a bit… well, I’m just so happy. That’s all.”

Louis’s expression softens. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he replies, loosening his grip on Harry’s wrists so Harry will wind them around his neck instead. “Christ, Haz, you’re fucking…”

“I know,” Harry says, and if a few tears are about to be shed then nobody needs to know except for the pair of them. “Sometimes I don’t even know how to say it in words, the way I just love you so much, I…”

Louis’s throat feels thick and words are suddenly difficult, so instead of trying he kisses him, all teeth and tongue and chapped lips. He presses their bodies together, hands cupping Harry’s cheeks, but even laying on top of one another like this they’re not close enough. They’ll never really be close enough, as far as Louis’s concerned. He kisses him for infinite minutes, until they’re both a panting mess with glassy eyes and happy smiles.

“You too,” Louis says eventually, even though he half-suspects Harry has no idea what he’s answering to anymore. “I adore you. I more than adore you.”

Harry’s winning smile is enough to keep him happy for the rest of his days.

He’s getting _married tomorrow._

*

After an actually rather exuberant rimjob on Louis’s part followed by a just as enthusiastic blow job from Harry, the pair shower, redress, and then pack their bags to head over to the venue. They’re staying overnight in the Bridal Suite the night before, which although everyone else has chastised them for, Louis can’t fucking _wait_ for. A night alone in a huge, luxurious bed with his boy sounds perfect and waking up next to him sounds like the perfect beginning to the biggest day of their lives so far. Fuck tradition, as far as he’s concerned.

Anne and Gemma are already there when they arrived, drinking tea and eating scones in the lavish living room. The venue is truly a masterpiece, with high ceilings and expensive paintings covering every wall. It’s very Victorian-esque, with lots of William Morris wallpaper and tall vases and statues that Louis wants to touch but would probably break if he did, so he resigns himself to just hold Harry’s hand loosely as they explore the bits that they’re going to be using tomorrow. Like Harry hasn’t dragged him here to look at least six times before.

There’s a little gazebo area out on the middle of the pond, which is where the actual ceremony will take place, then there’s a short walk in between the huge manor house itself. Dinner and the reception will take place in the ballroom, then most of the guests will spend the night. It’s truly a beautiful venue, and the weather also seems to be on their side. Their best friends will be arriving shortly, then there’s the rehearsal dinner tonight at eight. Everything seems to be going perfectly, and Louis hasn’t stopped smiling since he stepped out the fireplace.

“This is our table,” Harry’s saying to him, like he hasn’t had the seating plan taped up on the living room wall for about three months now. “So you and me are here, then there’s your mum, Lottie, Mark, Zayn, Liam, Niall, Perrie, my dad, Gemma and finally my mum.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Louis says, rolling his eyes before he kisses Harry’s knuckles softly. “You’ve only told me a hundred times now.”

Harry doesn’t stop grinning despite the telling off. “And then here we have the cake.”

Louis hasn’t actually seen the cake yet, so he is rather excited for this. Harry drops his hand rather dramatically in order to do a grand unveiling, and he pulls off the sheet covering it with such vigour that for a split second Louis panics that the whole thing is going to crumble.

It’s not actually just one cake, as it turns out. It’s three cakes, two shorter ones of only two tiers (only two tiers, Louis snorts internally) and one giant one in the middle, four tiers high and complete with tiny marzipan figures of the pair of them, which wave up at him as he laughs.

“These are brilliant,” he tells Harry, bending down to give Marzipan Louis a high five with his index finger. “Truly a work of art. I love the hair on yours.”

“Is that sarcasm?” Harry pouts. “I can’t tell.”

“No, babe, I truly love it,” Louis grins, turning and giving him a loud, smacking kiss on the mouth. “It’s very you.”

“Very us,” Harry corrects, bopping Louis on the nose. “One of the cakes is basically one huge strawberry muffin, all for you.”

Louis squeals and then composes himself quickly. “Sounds aces,” he says in a voice about four octaves lower than his usual speaking voice, and Harry cackles and kisses him again hard.

They’d probably get things done a lot quicker if they didn’t keep stopping every five minutes for a good, long snog, but Louis has to wonder where the fun in that would be. As it happens, it takes them a full forty-five minutes to do the ten minute job of checking the seating plan and the cake. When they head back out to meet Anne and Gemma in the foyer, both look bored and raise eyebrows at the pair.

“We’ve been waiting for over half an hour,” Gemma drawls, pretending to examine her nails. “Dare I ask where you boys have been?”

“We were just…” Louis starts, but he’s drowned out by Harry’s whine.

“It’s our wedding weekend,” he complains loudly. “We are allowed to snog a lot.”

Anne pretends to cover her ears. “Enough,” she says faux-sternly. “My baby does not do that sort of thing. He is six years old, as far as I’m concerned, has no idea what sex even is.”

Gemma snorts loudly. “I think we all know that ship sailed waaay back when we caught them with Louis’s hand down his trousers in the kitchen that one Easter Sunday…”

“Oh my god,” Louis says, mortified, just as Harry whines even louder.

“What?” Anne asks with a smirk. “If we can’t embarrass you on your wedding day when can we embarrass you?”

“Never?” Harry scowls. “If this is the treatment we’re going to get on our wedding day…”

“Oh, hush,” Anne says, waving her hand in front of his face. “If you think I’m going to be coherent enough to say anything tomorrow then you don’t know me at all, Harry Styles. I’m going to be a big blubbering mess.”

“We went and bought this potion yesterday,” Gemma adds. “Apparently if you spritz it on your face after you do your make-up, it’ll stay perfect no matter how much you cry. Perfect for weddings, funerals and the occasional night out, the bottle says.”

Louis nods. “Very forward thinking, I like it.”

Gemma smiles at him, and it’s almost like they’re back to their old selves but not quite. It’s a shame, really, because Louis would love everything to be absolutely perfect, but not even Harry can deny that their relationship is still a little strained. But like all things of this nature, these things just take a little time, and Louis hopes that Gemma will come around once the wedding is over.

“What time is it now?” Harry asks, glancing around the room for a clock.

“Just short of half four,” Anne tells him. “Why, what time are the rest of the group getting here?”

“Jay should be arriving around five?” Harry says, looking to Louis, who nods. “Yeah, so not long away. Then Zayn and Liam said around half five, and they’re bringing Niall and Jade and Perrie.” His brows furrow. “What about Granny and Grandpa?” He gasps. “Oh, and, like, Dad?”

Anne gives him a look. “Funnily enough, I haven’t spoken to your father, but your grandparents should be Flooing in any minute now,” she says. “Have you two been up to your room yet?”

Louis shakes his head. “No, not yet. We left our luggage behind the front desk.”

“Well, do you wanna go and get settled, then meet us down here again in, like, an hour?” Anne says, checking her watch again. “That way everyone should be here and will probably have settled in to their rooms too, then we can all just say hi and have a drink, then go off again to get ready for the rehearsal dinner?”

Harry and Louis both nod. “Sounds like a great plan,” Harry says, resting a hand on Louis’s shoulder. “Meet down here then?”

Anne nods and picks up the magazine next to her, so Harry and Louis spin round and clasp hands again before they head back to the desk. The manager hands them over their cases and collects their dress robes from where they’re hanging behind the desk, and then the pair of them gets in the lift and head up to the Bridal Suite.

“Which one of us is carrying the other over the threshold?” Louis asks, eyebrows raised as they walk towards the huge, double-doored entranceway to this room. “Bagsy not me.”

“It was never going to be you, was it, you lazy sod,” Harry mutters, fumbling with the card key. “Ow, bloody _fuck_. I fucking hate these Muggle things, like why can’t they just use a password or something instead of a pointy piece of plastic?”

“What are you on about?” Louis asks incredulously, taking it from him and sliding it much more easily into the door until it beeps. “You’re the one who picked this location.”

“Yes, but that’s because they do the Wizarding wedding package – it’s only the hotel bit that’s run by Muggles,” Harry says. He reaches past Louis to open the door, his giant palm splaying across the wood to hold it open for Louis to haul his huge suitcase through. It’s so big that Louis ends up turning around so he can wheel it in backwards, so he doesn’t quite get the same opening view to the room Harry does. It’s worth it though, because he gets to see Harry’s face and that’s probably even better. “Oh, holy shit.”

Louis leaves the suitcase where it is and spins, his own mouth falling open as he takes in the sight of the huge, beautiful room they’ve been given. There’s so much light, thanks to the three huge windows that span from the floor to the ceiling, panelled in between huge walls covered with beautiful, old fashioned paintings of lovers. There are two sofas, a flatscreen telly and a minibar, but past that is where Louis’s eyes can’t help but be drawn to. The bed is, quite frankly, obscenely huge, with a thick red duvet and a lot of heart-shaped cushions dotted all over it. It’s beautiful.

“Holy shit indeed,” Louis echoes, sidling up to Harry and wrapping an arm around his waist. Harry reciprocates the move and kisses the top of Louis’s head, face lingering there for a few moments, nose tickling Louis’s scalp. “Babe. Baby. Are you smelling me?”

“No,” Harry mumbles. There’s a pause. “Yes.”

Louis grins and tugs Harry in for a proper hug. He buries his face in the familiar warmth of Harry’s chest and clings, because he has everything he could ever want in this room – in his arms, really – and he can’t quite believe how lucky he is right now.

“Could smell you forever,” Harry continues, like that’s a normal thing to say, but Louis supposes it is for Harry. “Louis, we’re getting married. _Married._ ”

“I’m aware, sweetheart,” Louis says, pulling back ever so slightly. His brows arch as Harry pouts, but it softens as Harry pulls him back in, adjusting their positions so Louis’s completely engulfed in his hold and Harry’s chin is hooked over his shoulder. “You’ve only mentioned this eight times in the past hour.”

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles. Louis chuckles and kisses him. “I’m just a bit excited, that’s all.”

“Ah, yes,” Louis says. “The thrill of knowing you’re about to marry the greatest person in the world. It’s a feeling I know well.”

“Shut up,” Harry whines. “Kiss me.”

“I think I can do just that,” says Louis, pretending to think for a second. “If I must, that is.”

Harry shushes him quickly with his mouth, and if they’re a little late to meet their friends and family in the foyer then, well, there’s only Harry to blame.

*

Everyone is dressed up to the nines, and almost all of them (bar most of Louis’s younger siblings) are suitably tipsy. The food has been nothing short of delicious – a decadent feast of coq au vin and bubbly – and the plates have been cleared away so pudding can be brought in for them shortly. It’s now that Zayn has to make a brief speech, sort of a precursor for tomorrow – so he readies himself by tapping his butter knife against his wine glass, asking everyone politely to stop their chatter so he can say these few words.

“Um, hi, everyone,” he says with a shy grin, nervously nudging his chair back so he can stand up. “As best man, I have the duty of this sort of pre-wedding best man speech. You know, I’m not even sure if this is a real tradition but Louis insisted, so.” He shrugs and smirks. “I guess I’ll save the real embarrassing stories for when we’ve got a bigger audience tomorrow and just stick to the basics tonight.”

A laugh runs through the table and he spares a brief glance to Louis, who has a glass of wine in one hand and the other on the back of Harry’s neck. He’s laughing, loud and unabashed, and it makes Zayn grin even wider. Their eyes meet for a split second and Zayn offers him a quick wink before he turns his attention back to his rough notes.

“Most of you know this, but me and Lou have been friends for coming up to eight years now,” he continues, eyes sparkling with mirth and fond. “We bonded back in Fifth Year when we were paired in Transfiguration and we realised we were both bloody awful at it.” He can’t help but laugh as he remembers their first lesson together, where they had to change a potted plant into a small palm tree and they’d ended up turning it into a parrot instead. “We were pretty inseparable back then, but then Lou met Harry and I didn’t see him for approximately half a term.” He snorts. “Not that I begrudge him anything. Him and Harry always had this, like, natural pull towards each other and it was something I never really understood, I’m not gonna lie, but I… it makes sense. It wouldn’t be right to have Louis without Harry or Harry without Louis at this point. Like… this wedding was such a long time coming and I think we’re all so sure at this point that if these two weren’t happy and engaged and stuff, there would be some huge imbalance in the universe.”

He earns another laugh with that, and he’s so unbearably fond he could burst. Both Harry and Louis have the biggest, brightest smiles on their faces, and he wants to go over there, hug them both and never let them go.

“I remember meeting Harry for the first time too, you know,” he says. “It was at a party in one of the House Common Rooms, no idea which one, but Louis wouldn’t put him down. I remember shaking his hand and Louis almost slapped me.”

Everyone laughs as they turn to look at Louis, who just shrugs and says, “well, what did you all expect?”

Zayn snorts. “I don’t know what _you_ were expecting, mate; the kid had the biggest stars in his eyes for you back then and they’re even bigger now,” he says sardonically. “But _anyway,_ I remember meeting Harry for the first time and then I seem to have not been able to shift him since.” He grins. “Not that I’ve ever wanted to. These two are two of the greatest friends I could ever ask for, and definitely the greatest couple I’ve ever known. If I ever end up half as happy with a future partner as these two are, I’ll consider myself a lucky bloke.”

Liam’s hand brushes over the back of his knee at that, and he sinks into it, even dares let himself smile down at him wistfully. Liam grins back and Zayn’s had enough wine that leaning down to brush their lips together seems like the best thing to do. It’s brief, and when he pulls back he sees that the rest of the table are watching him amusedly. He clears his throat and hurries on.

“Obviously I want to save the real sappy stuff for tomorrow, so in the mean time I’d like for us all to raise a glass to Louis, and to Harry, two of the best friends I’ve ever known and the happiest, sappiest couple in all of England.” He raises his glass, and the rest of the table follows suit. “To Harry and Louis!”

“To Harry and Louis,” the table echoes. Glasses clink together and Zayn sinks back down into his chair, taking another sip before he leans himself into Liam’s warm side. Liam brushes a kiss over his temple and smiles.

“I loved that,” he murmurs, quiet enough for only Zayn to hear. “It’s so nice to hear you speak about how much you love those two.”

Zayn turns a little so he can look him in the eye. Liam’s expression is soft, eyes fond. Zayn loves him so much. “I do really love them, yeah,” he replies, mirroring Liam’s grin. “I’m so fucking happy, Li.”

“Yeah, it’s so nice to be here,” Liam starts, but Zayn shakes his head a little, lifting his head up so they’re face to face.

“No, I mean, like, in general,” Zayn says earnestly. “I’m happier than I’ve been in so long, and Lou and Haz are playing a big part in it, yeah, but there’s… there’s also something else. And it’s really… it’s pretty wonderful, Li.”

“You sap,” Liam teases, tongue poking out between his teeth. “You’re such a sappy twat.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “It’s literally a wedding,” he reminds him. “It’s probably the sappiest place to be.”

“I suppose you’re forgiven then,” Liam says, and his hand slides up Zayn’s back and his thumb toys with the hairs at the back of his neck. “But ditto, by the way.”

Zayn laughs as he cups Liam’s face and moves in to kiss him, noses bumping lightly as their lips move together briefly. They end up pulling apart slowly because someone’s tapping on Zayn’s shoulder and it’s rather distracting. He turns and it’s Anne, the person sat on his right, and she gives him a look before she tilts her head towards the grooms.

“Well,” Harry says, standing up on wine-drunk legs and smirking, “now that the best man has come up for air, we can say our thank-yous.”

Zayn flushes and Liam laughs into his shoulder. Louis stands up and shoots them a very similar look to Anne, but he’s soon distracted by Harry lacing their fingers together.

“Obviously this isn’t even close to being the whole wedding party, but you guys are the ones who made it possible,” Harry continues. “We’ve got both our wonderful mothers, who are the two best mothers we could ask for.” Anne pretends to bow and Jay just claps her hands happily. “We’ve got amazing sisters and brothers and dads…” He cuts himself off, and Zayn can’t help but tense up as Harry swallows, visibly nervous. Louis rests a hand on the small of his back and murmurs something that the rest of the table can’t hear. Harry nods and then carries on. “Obviously there are dads who couldn’t be here this evening,” he says, and he sounds a little choked. Zayn grips Liam’s hand nervously.

“Robin is a very, very missed presence at this table,” Louis jumps in to say, pressing his lips together sadly. Zayn nods sombrely even though he doubts anyone is looking at him. “He was a very special bloke and both of us are extremely sad he isn’t here today.”

Zayn chances a look to Anne, who is toying with her necklace and smiling despondently at both the lads. The atmosphere has gone from playful to extremely solemn, but it wouldn’t have felt right to ignore the fact that there would be an empty space between Anne and Gemma if Jamie hadn’t come back into the picture. 

“Can we have a toast to Robin?” Harry says suddenly, looking at his mum and then at his fiancé. “A toast to the stepdad who should be here, and to the man who brought so much joy to so many of us.”

“To Robin,” the room echoes. This time the clink of glasses is less jovial, and there’s a greater pause before Harry starts speaking again. Zayn watches as Louis puts both hands on Harry’s shoulder and props himself up on tiptoes to whisper something. Harry nods at whatever he’s said and mumbles  something back, kissing him quickly as Louis nods his own agreement.

“That was nice,” Liam says quietly. “Good to do, I think.”

“Yeah,” Zayn breathes, not quite able or willing to take his eyes off Harry and Louis. He’s not sure what either is saying, but whatever it is has clearly calmed Harry down because he thankfully no longer looks like he’s about to cry.

“We also want to thank our best friends,” Harry calls, silencing whatever Liam was about to answer him with. “To Zayn, to Perrie, to Niall and Jade and Liam and everyone else who’ll be here tomorrow, you guys are the best. We’d probably be a little lost without you all, and we’re so grateful you’re all here. We love you.”

“We love you,” Louis echoes, blowing Zayn a dramatic kiss, which he has to sit up to catch. “You’re all brilliant, even if I have a feeling you’re all gonna embarrass me tomorrow.”

“We would never,” Perrie calls playfully, and the table laughs again.

“We love you too,” Niall shouts, slinging an arm around Jade and the other around Perrie, cuddling them in. “Come give us a hug, you two!”

Harry grins and pushes his chair back, stumbling over to the group and almost tumbling into Perrie’s arms. Louis follows suit, but not before practically yelling, “oi, oi, Malik, you too!”

Zayn jumps to his feet and drags Liam along with him, and ends up tangled in such a tight, complicated hug that he’s not sure where one body starts and another ends.

“I love you guys,” he ends up crowing rather sappily. “Best friendship group I could ask for.”

“Sappy wanker,” Louis shouts, rubbing a closed fist onto the top of Zayn’s scalp from out of nowhere. “Sappy, sappy, sappy…”

“I love you too, Zaynie,” Harry says loudly over Louis’s teasing. It sounds a little like he’s crying. “And Louis thinks so too, even if he’s being a knob.”

“Enough of this; just hug me,” Louis cries dramatically, and the rubbing stops in favour of Louis flinging his arm across Zayn’s back and nearly dislodging the entire group. It’s gross and sweaty and probably a bit much in front of Harry and Louis’s grandparents, but it’s also really fucking lovely.

This whole weekend is really fucking lovely.

It’s only when he moves up to press his lips against Liam’s and ends up getting Niall that the group disbands, laughing hysterically until there are tears in all their eyes.

The party itself fizzles out close to midnight, when the moon is high in the sky and little girls and boys are yawning against Jay and Dan’s shoulders. Dessert plates have long since been cleared away and the last of the wine has just about been consumed. Louis’s knackered, but he remembers that Harry’s been awake since half four the previous morning, so he excuses the pair of them with hurried hugs and kisses and gentle coos of “see you in the morning.”

Harry’s practically a zombie, eyes blinking sleepily and unseeing. Louis’s not unconvinced that if he didn’t have a guiding hand on his back, he would probably be stumbling into walls. Gently, he manoeuvres him towards their huge room, plucking the card key from Harry’s sleepy fingers and letting them in.

The second they’re inside, Harry’s yanking off his expensive blazer and dropping it haphazardly onto the sofa. His trousers are the next to go, or at least they would be if Harry could get them off his mile-long legs. With a snort, Louis approaches him and gently puts guiding hands onto his hips, then walks him towards the bed where he presses him down onto his back.

“Lou,” Harry whines, the word drawn out by a long yawn. “I can’t sleep in these.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Louis whispers. “I’m gonna undress you, don’t worry. But you look seconds away from passing out, so if you’re gonna I’d rather you did so on the mattress.”

Harry nods sleepily and lets his eyes drop closed, so Louis fumbles with his belt buckle and eventually gets them off. His pants come with the trousers and he looks a right sight, lying flat on his back in nothing but a ruffled silk shirt. Louis moves up and undoes each button slowly, then hoists Harry’s body up just enough that he can slide the material off his shoulders.

“Do you want pyjamas?” Louis asks lowly. “Or are you happy naked?”

“Stupid question,” Harry mumbles, then rolls over onto his side and starts shuffling up the bed to get himself under the covers. Louis blinks at him a few times and bites his lip, trying not to laugh too loud. He undoes his bow tie and then unbuttons his shirt, and in no time at all he’s down to just his boxers and ready to crawl into bed behind Harry.

It’s a testament to how tired he is that Harry doesn’t even chastise him for not folding or hanging up their clothes. Instead, he rolls over just enough to nuzzle his nose into Louis’s neck, and Louis winds his arms around his waist and presses close as he can.

“I am in love with everything that you are,” Harry whispers in his ear. Louis shudders with the words, and prays Harry’s eyes are still closed so he doesn’t pick up the flush to his cheeks.

“Really?” he asks.

“Really,” Harry says, and even though he’s nearly asleep Louis has no doubt he means every word. “I am marrying everything that I adore. You are everything.”

Ordinarily, Louis would scoff and call him a dreadful sap, but he’s marrying this boy tomorrow and he’s so full of love he could fucking _burst._ “I adore you,” he gets out meekly, because he kind of wants to cry at how overwhelmed with affection and wonder he is. “You’re my whole world.”

“I know,” Harry says simply. There’s a smile in his voice as he says it and Louis’s heart thumps. “I know. Goodnight, darling. ”

“Night,” Louis says quietly, and then, “hey. Harry. We’re getting married today.”

Harry squeezes him even tighter in lieu of a reply, lips brushing his temple and soft eyelashes fanning over his face. Louis falls asleep like this, warm and in love and so, so excited.

He’s getting married today.

*

The ceremony isn’t due to start until four pm, but Harry wakes Louis up at nine am anyway, then pokes at his thigh until he reluctantly crawls out of bed and into the shower. Apparently he has a lot of groomly duties to attend to before the ceremony, and one of those involves going and waking up Zayn so he can make sure he definitely bought his dress robes.

Louis has a little more faith in Zayn than Harry, clearly, so when Zayn answers the door, bleary eyed and wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, Louis shoots him a vague thumbs up and disappears again. He gets in the lift and goes down to join his family for breakfast, munching on scrambled eggs on toast with Ernie in his lap. Harry’s sat opposite him, next to Jay, and he’s feeding Doris small spoonfuls of baked beans.

“Harru,” she coos, then grabs one of his ringlets with a tomatoey hand. “Harru!”

“Harru,” Harry says back merrily, pulling a funny face right up in her face. She shrieks delightedly and then grabs the spoon from him, throwing it to the floor with a pleased gurgle. Louis snorts and watches as Harry digs around under the table for it, but in all honesty it settles something new and exciting in his stomach. Harry with a baby – a baby he loves so much anyway on top of all that – is something that could very soon and very really be a part of his future.

It’s a thought he’s happy to keep to himself for now, but it’s definitely a thought.

After breakfast, the pair head back into the reception hall for their last minute checks. Overnight, it seems their friends and families (Louis is going to _skin_ Zayn) have bought down photo boards documenting each boy in turn, plus one huge one in the middle with photos of the pair of them. There are some hilarious ones, he must admit, but there’s also a few photos of him with penises drawn on his face, one from the time at Hogwarts when Zayn had walked into Louis’s bedroom literally seconds after Harry had climbed out of his lap, and one of him as a toddler, naked as the day he was born with his feet in a pair of his mum’s heels.

Aside from that, everything else in the room is pretty much perfect. The smell of fresh flowers is almost overwhelming, but one look at Harry’s face tells him that any sneezes and sniffles will be completely worth it. He grabs him and kisses him anyway, because he can, and then the two head back up to their rooms to grab their stuff.

After adamantly refusing to spend the night before apart, the pair had decided to compromise with their mothers and to at least spend the final four hours before the wedding separated. As such, Louis is off to get ready in Zayn and Liam’s room, whereas Harry is going to his sister’s. That way, the Bridal Suite could be dolled up again by the hotel staff for their first night as newlyweds.

“Next time I see you, we’ll be at the altar,” Louis grins, smiling against Harry’s lips as the two move in sync, arms tight around one another, heads bowed close. “In four and a bit hours, I’ll be yours forever.”

Harry lets out the tiniest little noise of excitement, which makes Louis giggle and snort and kiss him breathless again. Louis really doesn’t want to go.

“I don’t want to go,” he mumbles, pretending to be cross. “I want to stay here with you.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Four hours apart is a small price to pay for forever, Louis.”

“You make it sound like I’m never going to see you again,” Louis says pointedly, but he lets him go all the same. “I love you. Be good, yeah?”

“Always,” Harry says, picking up his dress robes and toiletries bag. “Love you too, sweetheart.”

“See you at the altar,” Louis coos. “I love you!”

“Fuckin’ Nora, Lou, you’ve got all day for this,” Niall groans impatiently from behind him. “Let’s goooo, come on, Zayn’s got the shots ready and all.”

“Right, because shots on my wedding day seems like such a good idea,” Louis scoffs. “Hey, ho, lead the way.”

Zayn and Liam’s room is on the floor below the more extravagant rooms in the place, and while it’s still gorgeous and lavishly decorated, it’s nowhere near as lovely as the Bridal Suite. Louis still throws himself into it, whooping loudly as he realises that the room not only contains Liam and Zayn and Niall, but also Stan, El, Lottie, and a couple of his other friends from Hogwarts.

“Lads!” he yells, giving each and every one of them a huge hug in turn. “Aw, man, it’s so good to see you all.”

“It’s great to be here,” Stan calls back loudly, tugging him into a huge bear hug. “Happy for you, man. So fucking happy.”

Louis cackles, slapping Stan on the back appreciatively. “Thanks, bro. I’m so fucking happy for me too.”

Next he moves onto Liam, who smiles almost cautiously at him, arms sort of flapping awkwardly at his sides like he’s not sure whether he’s quite at the stage of friendship to be hugging Louis yet. Louis shakes his head with a jokey sigh and then practically launches himself into Liam’s arms, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and moving them from side to side.

“Glad you’re here, Payno,” he says, and he means it. “Wouldn’t be right if you weren’t.” He pulls back, both hands resting on Liam’s shoulders. “You alright, lad?”

Liam’s grinning. “Yeah, Louis, yeah. Are you?”

Louis nods. “I am pretty fucking good as it happens. I’ve heard it being your wedding day does tend to put you in a good mood.”

“Nervous?” El calls from across the room. Louis throws his head back and laughs along with the rest of the room.

“Not really,” he says. “S’not like me and Haz haven’t been married in theory for years, is it?”

“You were married at fucking Hogwarts, mate,” Zayn says. Louis doesn’t need to be facing him to know he’s rolling his eyes. “You’ve been married for so long, this is just your excuse for a lavish, expensive piss up.”

Louis pretends to gasp. “If my husband-to-be heard you using such _foul, slanderous_ words about the wedding we’ve been planning for all these months…” He presses his hand to his heart and takes a rather dramatic deep breath. “Also it’s a bit more than just a piss up. It’s a chance for the day to be exclusively about me and Harry, which in my opinion doesn’t happen enough.”

The room cackles at that, and even Louis’s laughing as various insults and scoffs are thrown his way. Instead of listening to them, he grabs a shot glass off the table in the centre of the room and necks it back, pulling a face as the burn of the alcohol hits him hard.

“Jesus Christ, Zayn, what the fuck is that?”

“Some Muggle drink, I dunno,” Zayn shrugs. “I think it’s called a Jägerbomb?”

“It’s fucking disgusting,” Louis hisses. “This should be made illegal.”

“Shut up and get dressed up, you whiny arse,” Niall calls from across the room. “We’ve only got four hours to make you look presentable.”

The whole room roars with laughter, and Louis flips him the finger.

“Yes, very funny, Neil,” he says loudly. “There’s still time to uninvite you, you know.”

“Mate, that was a weak comeback,” Niall cackles. “You’re going soft in your old age. You fucking old fart.”

Louis pretends to twirl, then does an exaggerated curtsey. “I am getting married today,” he singsongs sweetly. “Forgive me if I’m not thinking about comebacks.”

Everybody laughs and makes an exaggerated “oooh” sound, which Louis ignores in favour of getting Niall in a headlock. He wrestles him playfully for a bit, then has a couple more shots. After about an hour of drinking and bantering with everyone he loves the most, he ushers everyone except Zayn and Liam out the room so he can start getting ready.

Putting on his dress robes and styling his hair doesn’t actually take that long, but first he has himself a long and thorough shower, making sure he’s clean everywhere not only for the ceremony, but also with the wedding night in mind. He washes his hair, cleans his teeth, and even borrows Zayn’s body lotion and facial scrub before he steps out of the bathroom.

“You smell like me,” Zayn says, narrowing his eyes and wrinkling his nose. “I hope that doesn’t put a hold on Harry being able to get it up on the wedding night.”

“Oh, please,” Louis snorts. “It’s his wedding day. The bloke’s had an erection on and off since we arrived here.”

“Poor kid,” Zayn says, but he’s grinning. “He only gets one of these and it’s to _you._ ”

“Fuck off, mate,” Louis says, pulling off his towel and walking over to his bag without a care in the world. He pulls out a fresh pair of boxers and shimmies them up his hips, smirking as Zayn covers his eyes dramatically. “This is gonna be the best day of his life, you know? It’s the day he’s always wanted and, like, I truly can’t believe he wants to spend it with me. Well, spend his life with me, right?”

“Lou,” Zayn says softly. “Fuck, bro, I was only teasing. I didn’t…”

Louis smiles softly, effectively cutting him off. “I know you’re teasing,” he tells him. “So am I really. I just… I can’t believe it’s my wedding day, you know? To the love of my fucking life of all people, and I found him so fucking young and I know a lot of things like this don’t work out, I know that, but I believe in me and Harry. I’m not sure of a lot of things but I’m sure about me and Harry.”

“You fucking sap,” Zayn says fondly, then walks over to him and wraps him up in a tight hug. Louis hugs back gratefully, threading his arms through Zayn’s own and clutching at his back. He’s so grateful to have a friend like Zayn. “I really was only teasing, you know.”

“I know,” Louis promises, pressing a wet kiss onto Zayn’s cheek. He pulls back but keeps a grip on his shoulders. “Thanks though.”

“Any time,” Zayn says, and he wraps his hands around Louis’s wrist and squeezes.

It’s too early to get choked up as far as Louis is concerned, but he’s definitely getting there. He blinks a few times to stifle any potential stray tears, and he thinks Zayn’s doing the same because they both catch each other’s eye and burst out laughing at the same time. That in itself is comforting, and Louis pats him on the cheek a couple of times before he moves away, back over to his dress robes.

He dresses and then lets Zayn style his hair into a quiff, curled at the front in the way he knows he looks best. He (reluctantly) slips on a pair of socks and steps into his stiff new shoes, then cleans his teeth and covers himself in aftershave before he, Zayn, and Liam, who had disappeared because he wanted to give Louis some privacy to change, head down to reconvene with Louis’s family.

Jay bursts into tears the second she sees him, which makes him laugh and coo and pull her into a giant hug. She clings to him, letting herself be cradled against his chest, then moves up to cup his face. When she speaks, her bottom lip is trembling the whole time.

“You look so lovely,” she says wetly. “So handsome, so charming… Jesus, Louis, I’m just so proud of you. I honestly couldn’t be prouder.”

“Mummy,” he says, and _Merlin,_ maybe he should have asked to borrow some of Anne and Gemma’s special potion because he’s going to weep and make his eyes all puffy and gross for the ceremony. “Mummy, don’t, you’ll make me cry.”

“I’m just so proud,” Jay says again, looking at him fiercely, but then she catches herself and shakes her head. “I love you so much, Boobear.”

“Boobear,” Zayn snorts from somewhere behind him. Louis aims a kick in his direction and unsurprisingly misses.

“That’s enough from you,” he says, before turning back to his mum. To her, he says, “you promised you wouldn’t call me that in front of my friends when I was, like, what, eight?”

Jay sighs exasperatedly. “Yes, but it’s your wedding day, darling. I need to get all my fond out somehow and that’s my fond Louis name.”

Louis splutters a laugh and then tugs her back in for another hug. She’s laughing by the time they pull apart and he kisses her on the cheek before she eventually pulls away entirely, caught up suddenly with Daisy and Phoebe having a fight over hair bows.

By three o’clock, most of Louis’s party – his family, Zayn and Liam and Zayn’s family, and his group of friends, are all waiting in one of the side chambers adjacent to the gazebo where the ceremony will be held. The plan is for everyone to go and take their seats at approximately quarter to four, then Louis and Zayn will head into the gazebo to meet Harry and Perrie, who will arriving from the other side chamber. That way, it didn’t end up that one of them was walking down the aisle and the other was stood there waiting for them. A complete break from tradition is what they’re going for and that’s what they’re going to have.

Until then, glasses of fizzy wine (and fizzy pumpkin juice for the little ones) have been handed out and are currently being enjoyed intermingled with the loud chatter and laughter. There are nerves sitting heavy in his stomach, and the whole room feels charged with such an excited, merry atmosphere that he almost feels drunk after just a few sips. As such, he barely even notices Liam slip out the room, too caught up in a conversation with Mark and Niall.

It’s only when the photographer calls for a group shot of him, Zayn, Liam, and Niall that he realises something is a little amiss. Liam sidles back into the room in just the nick of time. He smiles for the photo obediently, an arm around Louis’s shoulder and the other around Zayn’s waist, but he’s stiff, and his eyes are glassy. Louis frowns and tries to catch Zayn’s eye but it doesn’t work because he’s seized by his mother after the shot has been taken so she can straighten up his tie.

“Louis?” Stan calls from across the room. “Louis, there’s a note for you here. And a little box.”

“A what?” Louis asks, walking away from his mum and raising an eyebrow. “Who left it?”

“I think… well, I’m guessing it’s Harry,” Stan shrugs, handing it over. “That’s his handwriting, isn’t it?”

Louis nods as he takes the envelope, his face softening almost immediately as he reads the words _my everything x_ on the front in Harry’s loopy scrawl. “Yeah, it’s from Harry,” he says quietly, then carefully tears it open. “Oh, bless his stupid heart.”

“Read it,” Eleanor calls, clasping her hands fondly under her chin. “Come on, Lou, read it aloud!”

The room all murmur in their agreement, and Louis shakes his head but clears his throat. He wishes he was wearing his glasses.

“My dearest Louis,” he begins, and he’s already tearing up. Today is just so fucking much. _Harry_ is just so fucking much. “Today marks the beginning of the rest of our lives, and there is nobody on planet earth I would ever want to be waiting for me at that altar more than you. You are the most lovely soul, inside and out, and… and…” He breaks off, pinching the bridge of his nose in a weak bid to stop himself from crying. The whole room is cooing and his mother is definitely crying again. “I love you irreparably. As a token, I send to you the only thing in the world you possibly love more than me, and I ask for you to eat it and get rid of it before we join together as two souls becoming one. Forever yours, Harry.”

He’s so, so grateful for Zayn, because Zayn winds an arm around his waist before he’s finished, then crushes their bodies together as he cries it out. Zayn jabs at his eyes with a handkerchief, shaking his head fondly.

“Hey, Louis, it’s one of Harry’s strawberry muffins,” Niall says. Louis spins and wipes his nose on the back of his hand. “Oh, there’s another note in here too.” He whistles. “Your boy is the fuckin’ sappiest, I swear…”

“Leave him alone,” Louis says, laughing through the tears. He feels like he’s about to explode. “Give me my muffin.”

The note this time is actually on a tag, and he has to cough several times before he can read it aloud. “With this strawberry cupcake, I thee wed.” He has to roll his eyes at that. “Cheeky bastard.”

“Hang on, I thought you were walking to meet each other at the altar at the same time,” Zayn says, tone confused. Louis looks up from where he’s peeling back the muffin paper.

“Yeah, we are,” he shrugs. “I thought you knew that.”

“Yeah, but Harry doesn’t seem to in this note,” Zayn says. Louis has no idea what he’s talking about. “And he’s using some pretty non-Harry phrases. Like, the grammar and the wording doesn’t sound like him at all.”

Louis shrugs before he takes a bite of his muffin. It’s fucking delicious, and a tiny bit of strawberry juice dribbles onto his chin. Jay immediately flaps and grabs the hanky off Zayn to mop it up with. “Maybe he was emotional,” he says through a mouthful of muffin, then takes another huge bite. “I hope he was.”

“No, Louis, wait,” Zayn says, and he’s gone stock-still. He looks a little grin. “Louis, stop. No. Spit that out.”

Louis swallows his bite and just stares at him, completely baffled at what his problem is. “What are you talking about?”

“Harry would never call it a strawberry cupcake,” Zayn says, and his voice has started trembling. “Louis, that’s not… please tell me you haven’t eaten it.”

“Harry would never call it a strawberry cupcake,” Louis repeats under his breath. “Oh my god.”

“Louis?” Jay says, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Lou, what’s going on?”

“I think… I think… _Harry…_ ” Louis whines. He’s shaking, his body swaying gently like he’s about to fall asleep. He really doesn’t feel good all of a sudden. “Someone… _no_ … someone check… someone check on Harry…”

Zayn’s at his side in a second, holding him upright and slapping at his cheeks. “Louis. _Louis._ ”

“Louis!”

There are more shouts and more calls of his name from across the room, but Louis can’t hear them. He slumps in Zayn’s arms, eyes dropping shut, and the last thing he remembers is someone screaming before everything goes dark.

*

Zayn wants to be sick.

His best friend is convulsing in his arms, half his family are watching him die, and he has no idea what to do. All his Auror training has gone out the window because he can’t _think,_ can’t think of anything other than holding Louis and making sure he doesn’t topple to the ground. So he does the first thing that comes to mind.

“Help!” he screams. “I need help, someone get help!”

“We need a Healer!” someone else is shouting – it sounds like El, but Zayn can’t be sure. “We need a Healer and we need to get him to St. Mungo’s right now!”

Zayn’s about to tell them not to call for a Healer because the nearest Healer is _Harry,_ and Zayn really doesn’t want him to see Louis like this for longer than he has to. Harry’s ability to be a competent Healer would definitely be compromised, and Zayn needs someone who is quick and efficient _now._

“I need Harry Potter,” he yells. “Someone! He’s in… he’s a guest…”

“I’ll go,” someone says. Zayn has no idea who it is, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is getting Louis help.

Louis’s body is quivering, like he’s having some kind of fit. Zayn’s loathed to let him go, and so he doesn’t, but he does lie him on his back on the floor. Jay drops to the floor with him, hands clawing at her face as she sobs, and Zayn’s not sure he can do this.

“I need my wand,” he croaks, realising belatedly that Liam has it. “I need…” He spins around, but Liam’s nowhere to be seen. “Liam? Liam?”

“He’s not in here,” Lottie wails from behind him. “He… I don’t know where he is.”

Zayn’s blood runs even colder. “No,” he gulps. “No, no, he’s not here, he can’t be here…”

“I know, that’s what I’m saying,” Lottie says. “He isn’t here.”

“No, not Liam,” Zayn says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Here, I need someone with a wand, now!”

Niall drops down to the ground next to him, wand already outstretched. “What do you need? What can I do?”

“Cast _Venenum Egritudo,_ ” Zayn instructs. His voice is trembling almost unbearably. “I need to see how much poison he’s ingested.”

“Poison?” Jay shrieks, then starts crying even harder into her hands. “Someone’s poisoned my baby?”

“Niall, cast it,” Zayn says loudly. “Press the wand to his stomach and cast it.”

“ _Venenum Egritudo,”_ Niall grits out, his voice also rather shaky. The spell works though, and within seconds Louis’s skin is glowing a burnt orange colour, all the way up to his chest.

“Fuck,” Zayn hisses. “The poison’s spreading fast. We need…”

“Hey, _hey,_ ” Harry Potter says, bursting into the room. “What’s happening? What’s… oh, Jesus Christ.”

“Please tell me you have an antidote,” Zayn begs, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand. “Please, Harry, please…”

Harry shakes his head as he drops down to the ground next to him. “I don’t, I…” He gulps. “Have we gotten through to St. Mungo’s?”

“We need a Healer,” Ron’s voice says, then suddenly he’s kneeling on Zayn’s other side. Zayn hadn’t even heard him enter the room. “We need to get this staunched for now; I left Hermione contacting the hospital but yeah, we need a Healer. Now.”

“Harry’s a Healer,” Niall says. “Louis’s Harry.”

Harry Potter curses under his breath. “I knew that, I think,” he mutters. “Well, we need him now. We don’t have any other choice.”

“I’ll get him,” Lottie says, then dashes out the room. Harry Potter presses his wand to Louis’s stomach and starts mumbling words that Zayn can’t make out.

“What happened?” Ron asks, turning to Zayn. “Who did this?”

“Who do you fucking think?” Zayn says, more tears slipping out and trailing down his cheeks. “He’s fucking here, isn’t he? He’s here, and he’s got Liam under, and he made Harry write a note that made Louis eat a poisoned cake. He’s fucking…”

“Alright, alright,” Harry Potter rushes to say, clasping Zayn on the shoulder. “He’s gonna be okay, Zayn, I’m gonna make sure of it.”

“How can you know that?” Zayn shouts, then slaps a hand over his mouth. The last thing he wants to do is make Jay feel worse. “I’m sorry, I’m just…”

“If he’s here, I better go fucking find him,” says Ron suddenly, jumping to his feet. “The whole team are guests here, aren’t they?”

Zayn nods hurriedly. “Stan should be around here somewhere, and the girls are with Harry.”

“I’m here,” Stan says. Zayn turns enough to see him chewing on his thumbnail, his eyes also shiny with unshed tears. “Let’s go, yeah?”

“Find Liam,” Zayn says weakly. “If you find Liam he can’t be far off. He needs to be within range to control him.”

Harry Potter nods. “Yeah, you’re right. Call the Ministry and get…”

Louis suddenly lets out a spluttering sound that nearly makes Zayn jump out of his skin. His body arches off the carpet and then he starts choking, his mouth flapping open and closed as he desperately tries to pull air into his lungs.

“Lou? Louis?”

“Oh, fuck,” Harry Potter mutters. “Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck…”

“What’s happening?” Jay howls from Dan’s arms. “Someone save him!”

“Louis!” comes a high-pitched shriek, then suddenly Harry Styles is on the ground next to him, almost knocking him onto his bum. “No, no, Louis, _no…_ ”

“Harry,” Zayn croaks weakly, but Harry keeps chanting over him.

“Louis, no, _no,_ darling, stop, _stop this,_ baby, _please…_ ”

“Harry,” Harry Potter says, firm and loud. “Harry, I know this is horrible and really unpleasant for us to ask you to get involved in but we need you to focus for a second.”

“Louis, my Louis, my baby…”

“Harry,” Zayn says stridently. He grabs him by the shoulders, then carefully moves his hands up to cup Harry’s face. Harry’s sobbing, his face a mess of tears and snot even after such a short time, but Zayn supposes he can’t blame him. “Babe, I know. I know it’s scary and horrible and I can’t even imagine what you’re feeling right about now, but I need you to cast a spell for me.”

“ _Louis_ …what… spell?” Harry gets out weakly.

“I need you to stop him choking,” Zayn says. “I don’t know the spell, but I need you to clear his airways. That might buy us some time. And then I need you to do whatever else you would do to a person whose been poisoned.”

“Poisoned?” Harry repeats, and his trembling hands reach back out for Louis. “Oh fuck, oh my fucking…”

“Harry,” Zayn practically shouts. “Harry, please. The spell.”

Harry Styles wipes at his eyes furiously, then shoves his wand into Louis’s open mouth before Zayn can really register what he’s doing. Jay starts crying harder and Zayn feels a little sick. “ _Anapneo,”_ he stutters out, moving his wand in gentle circles round Louis’s throat, using his free hand to brush hair from Louis’s eyes.

The next thirty seconds are the longest of Zayn’s life. “Is it working?” Harry Potter asks, peering over Louis’s still body. “Is it…?”

“Yeah,” Harry Styles croaks. He circles his wand a few more times and then pulls it out, wiping it on the carpet. “He still needs help though, he’s still gonna die if…”

“We know, son, help is on its way,” Harry Potter reassures gently. “What you’ve just had to do is incredibly brave. _So_ brave. And we need you to stay this level of composed if we’re going to have any chance of saving him. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah,” Harry Styles says again. He presses his wand to Louis’s stomach and mutters something. After a few seconds, Louis lets out a soft breath and his body stills, but his face is still green and his skin is still burning a bright orange. “Pain relief,” he explains. “I don’t… he can’t… I don’t want him hurting.”

“Understandable,” Harry Potter nods. “You’re being so brave, Harry, I can’t even tell you.”

Harry Styles nods, and another tear slides down his cheek as he slides his hand over Louis’s tummy. His demeanour with Louis now is so vastly different than it was at the beginning, and Zayn’s infinitely glad he’s acting calm and not like how he originally feared. He can’t help himself from sliding a hand through Louis’s hair, and for an absurd second his mind runs over just how sad it is that his expensive dress robes are ruined.

Thankfully, it’s only a couple more minutes before a set of Healers run through the door. Zayn looks away as they administer the antidote, which has Louis coughing and spluttering in Harry’s hold before he once again goes limp. For a terrifying moment Zayn thinks it hasn’t worked, but only a few seconds later Louis’s vomiting up his guts onto an expensive rug, hopefully shifting the poison from his system entirely.

“He’s in safe hands,” Harry Potter tells Zayn over the hustle and bustle. “He’s going to be alright.”

Zayn nods as he lets out a haggard breath. That was so close – _too_ close – but now there’s another question to be answered.

“Why didn’t he use an instantaneous poison?” he asks. “Why did he give us enough time to save him?”

“I don’t know,” Harry Potter says, biting his lip. It’s clear the thought had occurred to him too. “It was cutting it close, mind, but there was absolutely ample time to get him help. So really we won’t be able to answer it until we find him.”

“I… I don’t have a wand,” Zayn says, swallowing thickly. “I gave it to Liam, like, an hour ago. I thought he was safe.”

“He is safe, Zayn,” Harry Potters says, offering out a hand to help Zayn to his feet. “It’s not Liam. You’re the one who told me that.”

“He is safe,” Zayn repeats, his hand limply clinging to Harry Potter’s a bit rubbishly. “Fuck, okay, we’ve gotta find him.”

“Let’s go then,” Harry Potter says. Zayn risks one final look back at Louis, who’s currently being lifted onto a stretcher by two Healers, before he jogs out after Harry Potter. Harry has his wand outstretched already, and Zayn feels naked and exposed as he instinctively reaches for his own and comes up short.

“Obviously we are at a little disadvantage with you wandless,” Harry says, but it’s not cutting or unkind. “But I think we’ll be alright for now, because I don’t think Agrippa is stupid enough to attack us point blank in the open.”

“No, that’s true,” Zayn agrees. “So basically we need to work out where he could be, or where Ron and Stan are.”

“I think they’ll probably be looking for Liam,” Harry says. “At least, I hope that’s what they’re doing. We find Liam and we find Agrippa, hopefully.”

“Do you…?” Zayn starts, cutting himself off as he tries to formulate something logical in his head. “Do you think, maybe, Agrippa went for Louis as a distraction?”

“How do you mean?” Harry asks, brows furrowed. “Louis seems like his most logical target, doesn’t he?”

“No, he doesn’t,” Zayn argues after a pause. “His most logical target is Liam. He always targets Liam.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t target him as a kill,” Harry says. “He knows he has a use for him.”

“But what if… what if that use is close to being up?” Zayn says nervously. “So he goes for Louis and feeds him a poison, which doesn’t kill him but it came close. We had ample time to save him, and he knew we would utilise that time, but we cut it really fine. If Louis died, so what? Another Muggleborn wizard out the picture. But we’d all be there, watching him. Even me, Liam’s fucking boyfriend, wasn’t looking out for Liam, I was preoccupied with Louis.”

Harry scratches at the back of his head. “I’m still not sure I understand, Zayn. What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that he came here, to Lou and Harry’s wedding, to make it look like he was attacking Louis, right?” he says. He starts pacing, running a hand through his hair and effectively ruining his perfect quiff. “Nobody had the time to doubt it because we were too preoccupied with saving Louis’s life, yeah? That became our priority.”

“Obviously,” Harry nods.

“But what we missed, and what he knew we wouldn’t pick up on until later was Liam going missing,” Zayn continues, his voice getting heavier with panic. “He could sneak Liam out of there in plain sight.”

“To what ends though?” Harry asks. “And how would Agrippa sneak through here without any of us noticing?”

Zayn shrugs. “None of us were looking for him, I suppose,” he says. “And none of the staff would think twice about someone in a suit, I guess. He could easily mingle in as a guest…”

“Or as a member of staff,” Harry adds. “They probably hire them from companies for this kind of event.”

“Exactly,” Zayn agrees. “Nobody would think twice about it.”

“So where does that leave Liam?” Harry asks, tapping his wand against his open palm. “If you were Agrippa, where would you take Liam?”

“Somewhere secluded,” Zayn posits after a second. “Somewhere where I wouldn’t think to look, so he’s definitely missing for a while before I think to look for him.” He freezes, body going cold. He clutches onto the doorframe so tight his knuckles discolour. “Because it _would_ be me that goes looking for him, wouldn’t it?”

“And Agrippa would know that,” Harry finishes for him. “But that doesn’t make sense in itself. I mean, you’re a Pureblood, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but I’m also a bloke,” Zayn says bitterly. “I’ve never been convinced Agrippa liked that very much.”

“Merlin’s left bollock,” Harry swears.  “Right, let’s do this then. If you’re right and your boy’s life could hang in the balance, then we need to be quick because enough time has elapsed for him to…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, because suddenly a blood-curdling scream rips through the corridor. Zayn and Harry both take off at a run in the direction of the cry, flinging open the door that separates the main house from the kitchen and former servant quarters and dashing down that corridor at speed.

They skid to a halt in front of what looks like the staff loos. The door is being propped open by a sobbing girl, one of the waitresses, shaking her head into her hands. Zayn and Harry approach her carefully, and when Harry reaches out to touch her shoulder she flinches and steps back, almost tripping over Zayn’s foot.

“Hey, hey,” Harry says carefully, reaching for her again. She lets out a sob and tries to turn away, and by this point more members of staff are coming into the corridor. One of the waiters takes the weeping girl in his arms. “Guys, we need you to get out of here, alright?” Harry calls. “It’s not safe.”

“Who are you?” someone asks. “And why was Jenny screaming like that?”

“In there,” the girl – Jenny – manages to stammer out. She turns in the boy’s arms and points to the now closed door into the toilets. “There’s… oh _god…_ ”

“Guys, we really think you should leave,” Zayn says loudly, holding his hands up to try and direct them back towards the exit. He really doesn’t want to open that door. “Make sure Jenny is…”

“No,” Jenny shouts. “Shut up. We need to call the police.”

Zayn opens his mouth to reply, but then he hears the door bang closed behind him and then Harry mutter a, “oh, holy _shit”_. Harry’s taken a look inside by the sounds of things, and what’s inside clearly is not pleasant.

“We will call the police,” Zayn says, trying to keep his tone authoritative and firm. “But you guys need to stay safe, so we need you guys out.”

Reluctantly but thankfully, the waiters and waitresses trudge out. Jenny’s still crying rather hysterically, and once they’re all out and the doors are shut Harry seals them with a Locking Charm.

“Don’t wanna risk them coming back in and seeing this,” he says with a grimace, then pushes the door open for Zayn to get a look at it. Zayn braces himself, and is sickened yet unsurprised when he spies the body of the waiter shoved inside. At least, Zayn assumes he’s a waiter, but he’s not wearing the uniform, just a t-shirt and a pair of boxers. There is, however, an apron lying not far from his body, and a tray of crumpled vol-au-vents next to him. There’s blood, but it doesn’t seem to have come from an exit wound. It looks instead like he’s bleeding as a result of his fall, which leads Zayn to conclude that he was probably cursed.

“He Cursed him and took his uniform,” he mutters, turning to Harry. He very much doesn’t want to have to look at the poor kid’s body for any longer than he has to. “That’s how he’s moving around undetected. He’s dressed as a waiter and nobody’s going to question it, or probably even look twice at his face.”

“Fucking hell,” Harry grunts. “You’re probably bang on.” He sighs. “What do we do with this poor sod then?”

“Call the police?” Zayn questions. “Or are there Hit Wizards on their way?”

“I should fucking hope so,” Harry says. “This ends today, as far as I’m concerned. I’ll be fucking _damned_ if I let him get away when we’re this close.”

“Agreed,” Zayn says with a grimace. “Let’s go, yeah?”

Harry seals the door into the loos with another Locking Charm, then conjures up a Patronus. Zayn’s never seen him do it before, and the ghostly silver stag is practically one of legend. He tries not to look too in awe at what should be just a rather normal thing for them, but he doesn’t think he masks his face very well. It leads Harry to look almost amused as he speaks out his message.

“Hermione? I’m with Zayn in the house somewhere. Wedding’s off, poor Louis almost died so they’re taking him somewhere safe. Either St. Mungo’s or up to his room, I’m not quite sure. Anyway, we know the guy who did it is in here somewhere and we think he’s going after Liam, Zayn’s boyfriend. We need you to get as many Hit Wizards as the Ministry can spare down here now if you can. Let me know what’s going on when you know, cheers.”

The stag gallops off and fades into nothingness. Harry lowers his wand but doesn’t put it away.

“Are you ready?” he asks Zayn. Zayn nods. “Hopefully Mione will be quick with an answer. Well, I don’t doubt she will be, but anyway. Let’s go find your boy.”

Zayn nods again then instinctively reaches for his wand. Coming up empty handed makes him extremely nervous for what they might find through these doors, so he makes sure to stay carefully behind Harry. He almost wishes he had a knife or something, just to be on the safe side, but at the moment any kind of safe side feels like it’s a million miles away.

The house they’re in – or rather, fucking massive mansion – is not easy to navigate around. After coming out of the kitchen area, the pair find a set of stairs and decide to go up them, working on the premise that he’s probably taken Liam somewhere out of the way in preparation for a manhunt. With every corner they turn and every door they push open, the feeling of dread in Zayn’s belly seems to amplify. He’s not surprised that his hands are still shaking.

Not only does he have no idea where Liam is, he also realises he kind of ran out on Louis and Harry, and that he also has no clue about Louis’s current condition. He tells himself he would know if it was anything other than as good as it can be, but he’s still panicked nonetheless. You don’t just almost watch your best friend choke to death in front of you without it having some kind of lasting impact.

On top of that, Liam could literally be anywhere. Absolutely anywhere. Knowing that Agrippa is fairly powerful, Zayn feels cold as he wonders whether he has Liam suspended from the ceiling or tied up and completely powerless, and all because he let himself trust a friend.

_A friend._

Because that’s the thing that still hurts Zayn the most about all this. The amount of hurt that Liam went through when he was processing all the shit Zayn explained to him, the thing that always sticks out in Zayn’s mind is that Agrippa was his friend. They were friends from such a young age, and Liam probably kicked his first football with him, rode his first broom with him, learned to play chess with him, maybe even spent Easter and Boxing Day with his family. It’s mind-boggling and upsetting and traitorous and Zayn has _never_ hated anyone quite like he hates Agrippa Smyth.

“What about through here?” Harry asks, giving him a nudge and snapping him out of his angry daze. “This leads to…” He leans back and reads one of the plaques nailed to the wall of the stairwell. Apparently, this house is bigger and more famous than Zayn was aware, and it’s actually some national tourist site. “This leads to several parlours, then there’s a library at the end.”

“A library,” Zayn repeats, then his eyes go wide. “A Muggle library?”

Harry nods, brows knitted together like he’s confused. “Yeah, I guess so. It is a Muggle manor house, isn’t it?”

“Do you reckon it’s the kind of library that would have books like Agatha Christie and Sherlock Holmes?” Zayn asks, trembling. “Books like the ones…”

“…like the ones that basically got us here in the first place,” Harry mutters, then swears loudly. “Right, let’s go.”

The pair race down the lavish corridor at speed, skidding to a halt as a silver otter drops down from the ceiling. It nearly gives Zayn a heart attack, and it’s only after a second that he realises that it is, in fact, Hermione’s answering Patronus.

“Hiya, Harry,” the otter says. “The Hit Wizards are on their way. I think there’s about ten of them coming. We have a warrant for his arrest. Apart from that, I know about as much as you do. I haven’t seen Ron or anyone, we’re just all still sat around waiting to hear news. I’ll let you know if anything else comes up!”

The otter scampers away and fades out. Harry groans and hits his fist against the wall.

“That was vaguer than I would have liked,” he grumps. “It’s all very well and good knowing the Hit Wizards are coming, but it’s not gonna be easy for them to find us in a building like this.”

“Surely they must have some sort of spell for that,” Zayn says. “I mean, Muggles have all kinds of tracking equipment by now, we must have an equivalent.”

“We do, but they can be temperamental,” Harry says. “I’ll be honest, I don’t know a huge amount about them. I should probably know more than I do, given my actual role in the Ministry, but I haven’t had much spare time over the past seven or eight months.”

Zayn pulls a face. “Shit.”

Harry shrugs. “Not much I can do about that now. We’ll just have to play it a bit by ear, and hope that when Hermione says they’re on their way, she means _now._ ”

“She must do,” Zayn says, though there’s a terrifying voice at the back of his head that isn’t as convinced as he would like to be. “We need to hurry though, because if he realises people are on to him he might… er, speed up the process.”

“Fuck, alright,” Harry says, and he raises his wand arm again. “Let’s go check out this library theory of yours.”

Instead of running this time, Zayn is careful to tread lightly down the creaky corridor. This way, if Agrippa does have Liam in the library he shouldn’t hear them coming, and hopefully won’t do anything rash. He also needs time to prepare himself, because he is truly terrified about what he might find behind the double doors they’re slowly approaching. Absurdly, he’s almost glad he doesn’t have his wand for a second, because if he had it in hand he probably would not be responsible for his actions.

“Ready?” Harry whispers when they’re just inches away. Zayn gulps and reaches for the doorknob, trying to control his shaking hands.

“Ready,” he replies, then snatches his hand back. “Do you want to go first in case you have to disarm him?”

“Now that’s a thought,” Harry mutters, then uses his arm to guide Zayn behind him. “On the count of three, yeah?” Zayn nods. “One… two… three!”

Harry lunges forward, wand outstretched, as he shoves the doors open. Zayn follows behind him, then kind of wishes he hadn’t.

“ _Expelliar-“_ Harry half-manages to say, but he doesn’t quite finish.

“ _Petrificus Totalus,”_ a voice hisses, and then Harry’s toppling to the floor, arms pinned to his sides. Zayn lets out a surprised yelp and tries to catch him, but all he can really do is awkwardly lower him to the ground so he doesn’t crack his skull open on the heavy, hardwood flooring. His wand clatters to the floor and Zayn darts to retrieve it immediately, but he doesn’t think he’ll be able to use the counter-charm to the curse without his own wand. It won’t be powerful enough.

“Well, well, well,” the voice rasps. “If it isn’t the infamous Zayn Malik and Harry Potter.”

“Agrippa Smyth,” Zayn replies coldly, forcing himself to keep his voice level. “You sick bastard.”

“Oh, now, now, Zayn,” Agrippa tuts, then comes into view. He spins himself around in the huge, leather chair at one of the desks, and he smirks. Like Zayn predicted, he is indeed wearing a waiter’s uniform, and he’s got his wand hanging loosely in his fist, tapping it almost playfully against his other hand. He looks like some kind of evil mastermind from a Muggle book, and Zayn really can’t help but wonder whether he knows and all of this has become more than just a sick fascination – a fantasy, almost - to him. “We barely know each other and you’re calling me such mean names, how is that fair?”

“I know enough about you to know that I never want to get to know you,” Zayn spits. “I’m not in the mood to play fucking games, _mate._ Where is Liam?”

Agrippa laughs, and it’s stone cold and makes Zayn’s blood feel like ice. He shakes his head like Zayn’s just told him a funny joke, then readjusts his position in his chair so he’s sat up a little higher.

“I don’t think I’ll tell you that quite yet,” he says, voice mocking and cruel. “I want you to earn it first.”

“Where’s Liam?” Zayn says, a lot louder this time. He raises his wand and some blue sparks fly out the tip, which makes Agrippa laugh even harder. “I’m not fucking kidding around here. Tell me or I’ll…”

“Or what? You’ll kill me with somebody else’s wand?”

“I can try,” Zayn huffs. Agrippa sighs.

“No, you can’t,” he drawls. “However, if you ask nicely I might tell you. You’ll have to do something for me first, of course. Then it seems right to look at making a compromise.”

“You think I want to compromise?” asks Zayn incredulously.

“I _think_ you don’t have a choice if you want Liam to leave this room alive,” Agrippa tells him. The words make Zayn spin around wildly, craning his neck upwards to see if Liam really is suspended from the ceiling. This makes Agrippa positively howl, and Zayn finds his cheeks burning with anger and humiliation.

“You fucking sick cunt,” he hisses. “Where’s my fucking boyfriend? Where is he?”

“If you answer these three questions for me, I’ll tell you,” Agrippa twangs. “And I’ll be honest here, Malik, I don’t think you can afford to say no.”

Zayn is absolutely not going to cry in front of him. “Fine,” he snaps. “I’ll answer the questions, but then you have to give me Liam. That seems fair.”

“It doesn’t seem fair to just _give_ you Liam, where’s the fun in that?” Agrippa says, then bares his teeth. “And actually, I think what I said was I’ll tell you where Liam is, not hand him over. No, that would be too easy.”

“Why are you doing this?” Zayn snarls. “This isn’t one of these fucking Muggle murder fucking mystery books where you can just act like some supervillain. This is real fucking life, and you poisoned my best mate and took my fucking boyfriend.”

“Your filthy Mudblood of a best mate,” Agrippa says coldly, sitting up a little straighter in his chair, “isn’t worth the scraps I feed my dog. Fucking lowlife coming out here, thinking he’s one of the chosen few when really he’s just scum.”

“You shut your damn mouth,” growls Zayn. “Louis is a better fucking wizard than most, and he’s worth ten of your pathetic self.”

Agrippa’s expression tightens. “If you ever want to see your boy again we’ll have less of that talk,” he grunts.  “Three questions. Alright, Zayn?”

“Alright,” Zayn scowls, and crosses his arms defensively across his chest. “Three questions.”

“The first is how did you know to find me here?” Agrippa says, and he starts drumming his fingers along the arm of the chair to a sloppy beat. “And there should be a correct answer.”

“I’ve basically already answered this,” Zayn says, and he even dares to roll his eyes. “This is where you get all your ideas from, isn’t it? The Muggle stories you try to emulate, because you know they’ve come up with cleverer poisoning ideas than you ever could.”

It’s bold, and risky, to keep challenging Agrippa like this, but Zayn wants him – no, _needs_ him – to know that he’s not scared of him. It’s a lie, really, because he’s fucking terrified, but his goal now is to distract for as long as possible until the Hit Wizards arrive. If he keeps him talking and riles him up a little bit, he might get somewhere.

Agrippa, however, looks less phased than Zayn would like. “It is true that Muggles have a decent sense of imagination,” he shrugs. “Look, Zayn, you must know by now it’s not Muggles themselves I am opposed to. Most of them stay in their place, and if they keep to their own world then I like them just fine. It’s when they think they have power over us I take issue.”

“You sound pathetic,” Zayn taunts. “Blood-purity is such a boring thing to keep focused on. Some of the greatest witches and wizards of our time are Muggleborn.”

“What, like Hermione Granger?” Agrippa heckles back, saying her name like it’s a swear word. “The cow is so over-glorified it’s exhausting. Her lessons at Hogwarts were too liberal and too… too weak-willed for my liking. She was a feeble excuse for a teacher at Hogwarts.”

“She was brilliant,” Zayn says through gritted teeth. “She _is_ brilliant.”

Agrippa waves his hand dismissively. “I should have guessed you were one of these fucking liberals too. You managed to corrupt Liam into falling in love with your gay ass, after all.”

Hands ball into fists at his side, and he nearly raises his wand in retaliation before he remembers it isn’t his. “I’m not gay,” he says hotly, even though he knows it doesn’t really matter. “And Liam fell in love with me out of his own choice. And you know what? I’m fucking glad he did, because he’s the best person I’ve ever met, probably ever, and I can’t believe you two were ever friends. You talk about him like he’s a piece of shit, but really that’s _you._ Liam is brilliant, and where he puts his dick really is none of your goddamn concern. He’s still worth everything, and he always will be.”

Agrippa pretends to yawn as Zayn finishes talking, and Zayn _knows_ he’s doing it for a reaction, but right now he’s willing to give him one. “Are you quite finished?” he asks, and Zayn doesn’t dare offer a response, just stands there with his blood boiling. “Good,” Agrippa says after a couple of seconds of quiet. The only sounds are his consistent drumming of fingers and Zayn’s laboured breathing. “I have another question for you then.”

“Ask away,” Zayn grits out.

“Have you got it all figured out?” Agrippa asks slowly. He presses a careful individual emphasis on each work, and it’s mocking, much like he’s talking to a child. “Do you know why I am doing what I’m doing?”

“What, why you’re killing off Muggleborn witches and wizards in your weird, sick way?” Zayn says, and he almost laughs, shaking his head disbelievingly. He doesn’t know if he has the words to answer this question, because it’s so blunt and so _horrible,_ really. “I mean, we have some idea. But I’ve gotta hand it to you, you are fucking clever. And I fucking hate it.”

“I know,” Agrippa says smugly. “We’ve been doing it for fucking years and you’ve never noticed.”

Zayn opens his mouth to retort, but he’s suddenly frozen in place at Agrippa’s words. He feels cold, petrified, and he can’t do much more than stand there with his mouth flapping open and closed awkwardly.

Agrippa roars a laugh. “Did you honestly not know, boy?” he howls, slapping at his thighs. “Are you and your team that dense that you didn’t connect all the murders I’ve carried out together?” Zayn doesn’t respond. “You fucking _idiots._ ”

“I… we… I…” Zayn stammers, unable to form words. “I…”

“This is so embarrassing,” Agrippa laughs. “I was slipping through your fingers long before you started investigating me properly. You guys are completely…”

“You weren’t,” Zayn interrupts abruptly, the reality of Agrippa’s words hitting him like a cold slap in the face. “You… you said we.”

“What?”

“You said we,” Zayn repeats. “You weren’t doing it on your own back then, were you? You had help.” He hesitates, trying to gauge Agrippa’s reaction, before he risks, “your father? Did you have your father’s help?”

Agrippa’s expression falters for a second, and then darkens. “My father’s vision was spot on, but the man himself was a fool,” he hisses. “Nobody knew what we were doing when he was in charge.” He takes a moment to wipe his mouth on the back of his hand. “You know, that’s why it doesn’t surprise me that you didn’t even know.”

“What do you mean?” Zayn asks slowly, carefully. He’s trembling, still standing as stock-still as he can make himself. “You were killing people with precision, right? So you were still killing Muggleborns but… but subtly, almost? So nobody ever, or hardly ever, thought they were murders.”

Agrippa nods. “Got it in one, Zaynie boy. And it was getting well boring, so I had to take matters into my own hands.”

“Your father wasn’t dead then,” Zayn carries on, ignoring him. “He was in hiding or something.”

“If the Ministry had bothered to even try looking, they would have found him in our basement,” Agrippa says with a roll of his eyes. “But I knew they were incompetent, and so did Mother. She never worried about having to protect us or dote on us like everyone thought because Father was just downstairs. He loved us and taught us well.”

“So you’re all in on this?” Zayn presses. “Your mother, brother, and sister too?”

Agrippa ignores his question. “Have you ever met Liam’s parents, Zayn?” he asks instead. “Lovely Geoff and lovely Karen.” He hums, and Zayn would say it was almost wistful if he wasn’t aware of what he’s really like. “Both duds, really. They seemed really keen in the beginning, you know. I mean, I was only a child when the meetings and such started happening, but I knew they were interested in getting involved. Shame they were too weak to take part in the actual fun.”

“That’s a lie,” Zayn snaps, and he can’t stop the wobble in his voice. “I don’t care if I’ve not met them, I know Liam’s parents wouldn’t do this because Liam didn’t know anything about it.”

“Liam’s always been a bit thick,” Agrippa sighs. More blue sparks shoot out of the tip of Harry Potter’s wand, but he chooses not to acknowledge it this time. “Wouldn’t surprise me at all if he hadn’t cottoned on. I almost feel sorry for him.”

“You shut up right now,” Zayn growls. “He doesn’t need your fake pity. Liam is a good person, and so are his parents. You leave them out of this.”

“Oh, believe me, they did that themselves,” says Agrippa. “Eventually it did just become more of a… family affair.”

“Did you kill your father?” Zayn has to ask. “Was it not going at the speed you wanted it to, so you had to kill him?”

Agrippa raises a bushy brow. “Who said anything about him being dead?” he challenges. “I’m not a complete sicko, you know. I’m trying to get rid of some of the scum, but killing my own father?” He shakes his head. “No, I haven’t killed my father.”

“But he’s not alive,” Zayn risks. “It’s what made you get braver, isn’t it? Because you said before that he was in control, but now you’re less calculated and…”

“I’m in no way less calculated,” Agrippa interrupts coolly. “What am I now, is _known._ People _know_ of the service I am providing for them.”

“What, a death sentence for their loved ones?” Zayn scoffs.

Agrippa wags his finger. “You’re cockier than I thought you would be,” he says. “And I also know you’re trying to piss me off so you can buy some time.”

Zayn tries not to visibly blanche. “What do you mean?” he says snappily. “I’m just waiting for my third question so I can get Liam back.”

“Sure you are,” Agrippa drawls sarcastically. He snorts. “You said it yourself, pal. I’m not stupid. I know there must be Hit Wizards and all kinds of Ministry riffraff on their way to get me and ship me off to Azkaban.”

“Then why are you still here?” Zayn asks. “Why have you put yourself in this position?”

“Because I have a wand, and you don’t,” Agrippa responds, as though it’s a stupid question. “And the only person who knew where you were going, I assume, is currently Petrified on the floor, while Ron fucking Weasel and the rest of your pathetic team run around this huge house looking for me.”

“They’ll put two and two together…” Zayn starts to say, but Agrippa shushes him.

“No, no, no, Zayn, don’t you see? They won’t, because they don’t have the same vested interest in getting Liam back. You’re willing to do pretty much anything to get him back, am I right?”

“Anything, _anything,_ ” Zayn nods, and he tries not to sound like he’s begging, he really does, but if Liam’s life hangs in the balance then he can’t really be blamed. “What’s this third question?”

Agrippa chuckles lowly, and it goes right through Zayn, making him shudder. “The third question, Zayn Malik, is what are you willing to do to get him back?” He laughs again, cold, and when he speaks again it’s mocking. “Anything? _Anything?_ ”

“I already answered that one,” Zayn forces out, trying not to let scared tears prick the corners of his eyes. He’s completely helpless and he’s going to have to do whatever Agrippa asks, really, because he’s alone, wandless, and both his life and Liam’s are entirely at Agrippa’s mercy. “I meant what I said.”

Agrippa sits up from where he’s been draping one leg over the arm of his chair, and he looks positively gleeful. “Anything? You mean it?” he asks, then cackles horribly. “Oh, this is going to be brilliant.”

“I get to know where Liam is now, though,” Zayn says loudly. “I answered the three questions. You didn’t say I had to do anything else, just answer them, so.”

“Indeed, indeed I did,” Agrippa says coyly. For the first time since Zayn entered the room he stands, making his way across the huge room towards the other wall. “I’ll just grab him for you,” he calls. “Oh, George?”

Zayn has no idea who George is, but suddenly the bookcases start moving, sliding apart much like Muggle automatic doors. He jumps and hopes to Merlin Agrippa didn’t see, but by the looks of things Agrippa is too busy trying to catch the attention of whoever this George person is.

George, as it turns out, looks enough like Agrippa for Zayn to deduce he must be his brother. Both have the same haircut, sheared short at the sides and slicked back at the top, with thick brows and set jaws and necks almost the same width as their head. George is just a little shorter than Agrippa, and if Zayn didn’t know that Agrippa was the youngest he definitely would have set the opposite. Along with what he lacks in height, George also lacks the same presence that Agrippa has. Zayn doesn’t doubt he’s probably shy and reserved, and lives in his brother’s shadow a little bit. Agrippa is clearly holding the reigns here, and he waits impatiently to see what happens next.

“Zayn, meet George. George, Zayn.”

“Pleasure,” George calls. Zayn ignores him and crosses his arms over his chest, and George looks almost offended for a second. “Do I not even get a hello?”

“Hello, can I have my boyfriend back now?” Zayn snaps. “I don’t really want to waste time with unnecessary pleasantries.”

“Oh, no, Zayn,” Agrippa titters, like Zayn has just made a completely unreasonable demand. “I said you could see him if you answered my three questions. You can see him, of course, but there’s a little something you’ve got to do for me before you can have him back.”

“I said I’d do anything, so…” Zayn trails off and gulps. “Can I see Liam, please?”

“Certainly,” Agrippa says, then taps George on the shoulder. “George, go and get our guest, will you?” He’s grinning as he says it, and George sniggers in response. It feels like there’s some sick in-joke going on that Zayn can’t (and doesn’t really want to) know about.

“Oh, Liam?” George calls back across to the bookcase doorway and raises his wand. “Liam, come here.”

Zayn’s breath catches in his throat as Liam is frogmarched through the entranceway. His arms are bound behind his back and he’s blindfolded, but he’s not struggling to walk, which indicates to Zayn that he’s still being held under with the Imperius Curse. He has to fight the urge to run to him and tear the blindfold off him, or even stand in between him and George so the curse breaks, but he’s not stupid enough to endanger either of them even more. So he holds his ground, clutching Harry’s wand so tight it almost splinters, and takes several deep breaths.

“Not gonna come and give your boyfriend a kiss, Zaynie?” Agrippa jibes. “He looks like he could use one.”

“You sick, _sick_ freak,” Zayn hisses in response, and he can’t help the hot tear that spills down his cheek. He’s _so angry._ “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? He’s your best fucking friend.”

“He _was,_ ” Agrippa corrects harshly. “He’s not much use to me now, apart from a way to get to you and your pathetic team that think they’ve got me sussed. I should probably thank you for that actually. I think you helped more than you meant to.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you were with the damn kid all the time,” Agrippa says with a wave of his hand. “It meant I knew to stock up good when I did get him under, so I’ve still got loads of poisons stashed for when I eventually get to start this back up again.”

“But I was with him all the time,” Zayn repeats dumbly. “I made sure you couldn’t get to him.”

Agrippa rolls his eyes and tuts. “You’re not the same person, Zayn. He does go places without you. There was, for example, the times when he didn’t need to go into work before noon. Or the times when he was just wandering around the Ministry in his lunch break, foolish boy. He made it so easy.”

“So that morning when you broke into his flat, you knew I was there?”

Agrippa’s brows furrow. “You were there?”

“Yes,” Zayn says. “I heard you. I heard everything. That’s how I knew it was you.”

“Really?” Agrippa says, and he sounds genuinely questioning and disbelieving. Zayn mentally fist-pumps the air. “I did not, in fact, know you were there. I thought you would have been called in early to work, because, you know, I murdered that bloke nice and early that morning. Before sunrise, as it happens. Foolish early morning jogger. Some people almost make it too easy, you know.”

“We thought you killed him in between coming to Liam’s flat and then fleeing to France,” Zayn croaks. Agrippa’s expression darkens.

“I did not _flee,_ ” he spits. “I had business to take care of over there. Family business.”

“Ah, yes, because family first and all that,” Zayn retorts dryly. “Dare I ask?”

“It’s none of your concern,” Agrippa snaps. “All you need to know is that I’ve had family business to attend to, both in and out of this country.” He wipes his mouth with his sleeve. “Any time periods I wasn’t in this country, know for damn sure I was making use of my time elsewhere!”

“So you were killing in France and not the UK, good to know,” Zayn says. He hopes Harry can hear these confessions so there’s at least a second witness of sorts. “So, come on then. What do I have to do to get Liam back?”

“George,” Agrippa says, turning to his brother. It’s clearly a command, and Zayn tries not to let any panic show.

George knows what to do without any further instructions. “Liam, give Zayn his wand back,” he says. Liam walks over on clumsy legs, hand dipping into the deep pocket of his dress robes. There’s a bit of fumbling, then suddenly Zayn’s wand is back in his hands.

“Say thank you to Liam,” Agrippa says sweetly. “He did you a favour there.”

“Oh, yeah?” Zayn asks, sliding Harry Potter’s wand into his own pocket so he doesn’t accidentally cast a spell using the wrong one. The urge to disarm Agrippa is overwhelming, but something stops him and he’s not quite sure what. Fear of the unknown, most likely, because even though George seems a little slow, he’s powerful enough to carry out a strong and successful Imperius Curse on a bloke larger than him. He figures he’ll try to rile the pair up a little more instead. “And what’s to stop me from disarming you both, right here, right now?”

“You wouldn’t be able to take us both out,” Agrippa replies simply. Zayn supposes he has a point. “Also, if you disarmed one of us, the other would just do this.” Zayn instinctively takes a step back and then one towards Liam, but it’s too late. “ _Crucio._ ”

Liam yells, his whole body contorting in pain. He doubles over and whimpers, and Zayn doesn’t even think about his own safety; he runs to Liam and tries to block the curse with his own body, but it’s futile. Instead he just tries to hold him, gripping him and trying to keep him upright despite the ions of pain currently coursing through his lover’s body.

“Liam!” he screams, and he tries to do something, _anything,_ but the magic is too strong. “Stop, _stop,_ Agrippa, stop. Stop this.”

To his surprise, Agrippa lets the spell drop. Liam topples forward and Zayn just about manages to catch him to bear the brunt of his weight. He feels tears stinging his eyes and he clings to him as best he can, only for him to be practically ripped from his grasp seconds later.

“Liam,” he whimpers, but Liam’s already moved away, standing next to George again. His body looks like it’s struggling to stay upright, even with the power of the Imperius Curse. He’s trembling, and it takes all of Zayn’s instinct and self-control not to go over there and wind an arm around him to help him. Instead, he wipes the angry tears from his eyes and lets out a scream. “You utter fucking bastard, I swear to _Merlin…_ ”

Agrippa waves his hand dismissively. “What does it matter when he’ll be dead by the end of the day?” he says in a cheery voice, and Zayn has to slap a hand over his mouth to stifle his sob. “Anyway, Zayn, my friend. You have a task for me.”

“What’s the point of me doing the task if you’re going to kill him anyway?”

“Well, if you do the task I’ll make it hurt less,” Agrippa says, like that’s supposed to pacify him in any way. “It’s not a big thing, anyway. All you’ve got to do is kill Harry Potter.”

Zayn chokes on the phlegm in his throat. “ _What?_ ”

“Kill Harry Potter,” Agrippa repeats. “Come on, how hard can that be?”

“You’re… you’re fucking serious,” Zayn says incredulously. It’s not a question. “You actually think I’m going to do that.”

“You are if you want Liam back,” Agrippa sighs, like Zayn’s being childish. “Well, I say back. I mean in less pain than he would be otherwise.”

“You’re fucking sick,” Zayn spits. “You’re fucking twisted and you belong in Azkaban. You deserve to rot there for the rest of your life.”

Agrippa sighs again. “Chop, chop, Zaynie, we haven’t got all day,” he tuts, tapping an invisible wristwatch. “Make up your mind.”

Zayn’s so frozen in place, so freaked and terrified and confused, that he doesn’t see the two Hit Wizards on broomsticks hovering outside the window. He swallows nervously, wand sticky from the sweat in his palm, and he stands there, just staring at Agrippa as tears roll down his face. He doesn’t even try to staunch them anymore.

“What happens to me if I say no?” he gulps.

“I kill Liam in front of you, then Harry, and then I’ll probably kill you for good measure,” Agrippa says. The way he talks about murder in such a casual tone is probably the most terrifying thing Zayn’s ever heard, and he’s itching to reach for Liam, but he _can’t._ He’s rigid, and he only snaps out of it when Agrippa snaps, “fucking come on, Zayn.”

“I’m not killing him,” Zayn says shakily. He probably wouldn’t even be able to cast a spell at the moment, not with how his voice is trembling. “I’m not hurting anyone, Agrippa Smyth. Not for you. I’m not like you.”

Agrippa looks genuinely shocked for a second, before he fixes his expression back into his customary sneer. “I really thought you would kill for the one you love,” he says, and it makes Zayn’s entire body go cold. “I really believed you when you said you would do anything for Liam.”

“Liam deserves to have someone who would do everything,” Zayn all but sobs. “But I can’t be that person if you’re going to make me watch him die anyway.”

“Very well,” Agrippa says, then starts pacing towards Zayn with his wand outstretched. “You can watch Potter die first, I think. I think it would prepare you nicely for what’s about to come.”

“Can I have Liam back?” Zayn asks, and he’s well aware that his tone is edging on desperate but right now he doesn’t care. He needs Liam more than he’s ever needed him before right now. “Please?”

Agrippa doesn’t answer. Instead, he presses his wand to Zayn’s cheek and forces him to turn his head to look at Harry Potter’s stiff body. His face is white as a sheet, and the petrification hasn’t let up even a little bit. Agrippa nudges him so they’re stood over him, and Zayn can’t even imagine what poor Harry’s feeling right now.

Luckily for them, that’s when the Hit Wizards decide to intervene.

“ _Stupify!”_ six voices all yell at once. Zayn recognises one instantly as Ron’s, and he instinctively throws himself to the floor, lying next to Harry and not daring to watch the scene unfold. It seems to be over relatively quickly, however, because before he knows it there’s a hand on his shoulder. It’s Ron.

“We got him,” he pants, shaking his head rather disbelievingly. “Fuck, it’s okay, Zayn. We got him.”

“You got him?” he repeats dumbly, rolling over and picking his wand back up. “Oh my god.”

Ron lets out a long breath, then moves over to Harry and reverses the spell. Harry’s body sags and he too lets out a long sigh, reaching up to wipe the sweat from his brow.

“Fucking _hell,_ ” he groans. “That fucking hurt.”

“Zayn?” a voice says suddenly, and it sounds desperate and scared and Zayn scrabbles to his feet in record time. He bolts across the room and plummets into Liam almost too hard, and the pair stumble a little but remain upright enough for Zayn to wrestle the ties from Liam’s wrist and then cling to one another. “ _Zayn.”_

“Baby, I’m here, I’m right here,” Zayn mumbles, repeating the words into Liam’s sweaty dress shirt like a prayer. “Fuck, _fuck,_ I love you, I love you so fucking much, Liam…”

“What happened?” Liam says, voice trembling. He fists a hand in the back of Zayn’s hair and keeps him cradled to his chest, like he wasn’t the one who was held under several terrifying hexes for a couple of hours. “Wha… why are you crying, babe? What _happened?_ Is… the wedding, I…”

“So much happened,” Zayn weeps, and he doesn’t let up his hold on Liam even a little bit, even though he knows his fingers must be digging into Liam’s skin a little too hard. He’s still not quite sure how he’s got his boy back. “I love you, I love you, I love you…”

“Zayn?” Ron says loudly from across the room, and Zayn would happily ignore it if Liam wasn’t pushing his hair back and carefully coaxing him to look up. He wipes his eyes and nods.

“Yeah?”

“Are there any others?” Ron asks. He and Harry are now both upstanding, both with their wands still out. “We got him and the other bloke, but is there a sister or a mother…?”

“I think his father is still alive,” Zayn says. It comes out rather strangled. “He never specified, but he’s not doing this alone. It’s definitely a family thing.”

Ron nods tightly. “We’ll get some Hit Wizards on that right away,” he tells them. “Are you both okay?”

“I’m fine,” Liam says, and he sounds like he means it, much to Zayn’s surprise. “My body aches a bit, but I honestly can’t remember anything back there.”

Zayn can’t bite back a sob, infinitely grateful that Liam can’t remember undergoing the pain of the Cruciatus Curse. Liam himself looks baffled at Zayn’s reaction and just squeezes him a little tighter. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” he gets out, words muffled a bit by Liam’s shoulder. “I’ll _be_ fine as long as I don’t have to go through that again.”

“Course,” Ron says with a nod. “He’s arrested, he’s going to jail for the rest of his life, I promise. You’re both safe.”

Liam shakes his head disbelievingly. “I can’t believe… I just… I’m…”

“I know, mate, I know,” Harry Potter says, shaking his arms up and down as he speaks. He’s not stood still since Ron reversed the spell, and Zayn imagines his body also aches quite considerably. “I’m so sorry you both had to go through that. I’m sorry I got ahead of myself and didn’t think before I cast my spell.”

“You did what you thought you had to,” Zayn says, pressing his lips together in a sad smile. “I would have definitely done the same if I had my wand.”

Harry Potter nods and laughs quietly, almost to himself. “Yes, I don’t doubt you would’ve. I’m almost glad you didn’t have your wand.” He pauses. “Also, you know. Thanks for not killing me.”

“What?” Ron and Liam both practically yell in unison. It makes Zayn laugh despite the fat tears clinging to his lashes.

“You’re welcome,” he croaks. “I wasn’t really sure what I would have done if the Hit Wizards hadn’t come in time, I mean…”

“I know, I know,” Harry Potter says gently. “You don’t need to relive it, Zayn.”

“Thanks,” says Zayn quietly. He takes a deep breath and presses himself even closer to Liam. “So what happens now?”

Ron sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I guess Harry and I go to the Ministry and make sure he’s locked away. We deal with the paperwork, or as much as we can after a fucking day like today.” He leans forward and claps Zayn on the shoulder. “You two go and check on Louis, make sure he’s alright.”

“What happened with Louis?” Liam says, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “Wait, what’s going on? Have we missed the ceremony?”

“The ceremony is long cancelled, son,” Harry Potter says sadly. “You’ve missed a fair bit, I’m afraid.”

“Is Louis okay?” Liam asks again. “What happened? What did that son of a bitch do?”

“Tried to murder him on his wedding day, that’s what,” Ron says with a grimace. “It’s so fucking lucky that Harry – his Harry – is a Healer or else he would have been in serious trouble.”

“Fuck,” Liam mutters. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck._ ” He pinches the bridge of his nose, and his other arm tightens around Zayn’s waist. “I can’t even… what the _fuck?”_

“This can’t be easy for either of you,” says Harry Potter. “I heard the entire exchange between Zayn and Agrippa, and it was some fucking bullshit, let me tell you.” He takes a deep breath. “Ordinarily I’d ask you to come with us to the Ministry, but you need to rest up and be with your friends.”

“I appreciate it,” Zayn says. He doesn’t think he could sit through several hours of Ministry interrogation or paperwork right now, considering he isn’t sure he’d be standing were it not for Liam’s grip around his waist. “Keep us posted, will you?”

“Absolutely,” Harry nods. “Although this seems pretty black and white, this case. He’s going to Azkaban, his brother is going to Azkaban, and we’ll have Hit Wizards out searching for any other Smyth family members.”

“Can I just say something?” Liam cuts in. Harry and Ron nod eagerly. “Grip’s - I mean, Agrippa – his dad died in January. I went to his funeral with my whole family, so.”

“You knew he was still alive?” Harry asks. He doesn’t sound angry like Zayn expected him to, but more curious and baffled. Liam nods tightly.

“It was… well, I guess it was so normal to be, like, it was drilled into me so much in my childhood that I didn’t talk about Augustus to anyone outside a certain group of people like my family and stuff, but I knew.” He coughs awkwardly. “We used to spend Boxing Day with that whole family every year.”

“I see,” Harry says tightly. “You didn’t think that was odd or anything?”

“Of course I did,” Liam says, sounding a little affronted. “Of course I did, but you didn’t question things like that in my house. It’s why I started to drift away a bit, you know? I was curious and also I liked a lot of my Muggleborn peers at Hogwarts and stuff. And I was gay and young and I didn’t know how to rebel, so all I did was try and distance myself. But my mum is a bit overbearing, bless her, so I keep in touch with all my immediate family a lot, I just don’t go home as much as I should.” He presses his lips into Zayn’s forehead quickly before he says, “I honestly didn’t think about it as something to mention. It was just a part of my childhood.”

“Fuck, Liam,” Zayn breathes out, turning so he can wrap his arms around Liam’s neck. He clings to him, and he pretends not to see Liam’s confusion in favour of staying pressed to him, Harry and Ron’s presence be damned.

“This whole situation is such a mess,” Ron groans. “There are so many unanswered questions.”

“We’ll get them answered,” Harry says firmly. “With enough Veritaserum he’ll give up everything.”

“True,” Ron says. He turns to Zayn, and when he speaks his voice is gentle, like he’s speaking to a spooked puppy. “Do you want to be there for the interrogation?”

“I think…” Zayn starts to say, then cuts himself off. “I think I need to decide that after I’ve seen Lou,” he eventually settles on. “Can I go and see Lou now?”

“Of course,” Harry nods, waving his hand towards the door. “Ron and I can finish all this shit up here, and then we’ll be up. Stay in touch via Patronus, yeah? Let us know how he’s doing.”

“Will do,” Zayn promises. He slides his hand down so he can lock his fingers with Liam’s, and he gently tugs him out the room. He doesn’t look back.

There’s a silence between them as they walk down the corridor towards the stairwell. The only noise Zayn can hear is the pounding of his heart, loud and thumping in his ears. They clip-clop down the stairs, hands still locked, and then Zayn realises with a jolt that they can’t go this way because they sealed off the area of the Muggle lad. He claps a hand over his mouth and stops dead in his tracks, almost tripping Liam over in the process.

“Zay… what’s going on?” Liam asks, then immediately wraps his arms back around Zayn’s shaking body. “Baby, come on. How can I get us out of here?”

“Through here,” Zayn says, vaguely gesturing to a door that could lead them out of there but could also not. He has no idea. “I need to go to our room for a bit. I need to be alone.”

“Okay,” Liam says understandingly. “I can go and check on Louis for you if you need…”

“No,” Zayn interrupts loudly, too loudly. “I need to be alone with you, I need…”

“Okay,” Liam agrees instantly. “Okay.”

“I love you,” Zayn blurts. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Liam says, then carefully turns Zayn so they’re facing one another again. He goes back in to hug him slowly, almost like he’s not sure he has permission, and Zayn sags into it. He clings on and clings tight, and he never ever wants to let him go.

*

Once they eventually make it back to their room, Zayn lets himself cry properly. They don’t make it to the bed, or the sofa, they just wrap themselves around one another and hold on tight. Zayn weeps and he weeps – he weeps for Liam, he weeps for everyone who lost a family member or a friend to one of the Smyths, he weeps for Louis and Harry and their dream wedding that became a nightmare, and he weeps for himself, because he woke up today thinking that today was going to be one of the happiest days of his life, and now everything feels like it couldn’t be worse.

Except it could, he reminds himself, and for some reason that makes him cry harder. Liam _could_ have died. Louis _could_ have died. Harry _could_ have had his husband to be choke to death in his arms. He _could_ have lost his best friend and boyfriend all in the space of two hours.

But he didn’t. He can’t quite believe he hasn’t. But he didn’t.

“Zayn, _Zayn,_ ” Liam coos, lips pressing wetly into his neck. Zayn takes several deep, gulping breaths but he doesn’t make a move to pull back. “Zayn, it’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.”

Zayn doesn’t say anything for a bit, just hiccups and continues to cling. He shouldn’t be surprised when Liam makes the move to scoop him up and to gently carry him over to the plush sofa, but it still makes him yelp and cling on even tighter, akin to a baby monkey. Liam deposits him on the couch gently, then pulls his legs over his lap and takes both his hands in his. It’s familiar, and it’s exactly the kind of comfort Zayn needs, which makes him cry harder because he nearly lost the person he’s pretty sure is the love of his goddamn life.

It takes him nearly an hour to stop crying, and once he does he gets up without a word and locks himself in the bathroom for a bit. He washes his face and cleans his teeth, which makes him feel a lot better, and then he goes back out and heads straight back into Liam’s arms.

“We need to go and see Lou,” he mumbles into Liam’s chest. Neither of them have bothered to change out of their dress robes, and as such they’re both looking a little worse for wear. “I wanna answer your questions, but I want to see Lou as well.”

“Understandable,” Liam says, lips pressed into Zayn’s hair. “My questions can wait, I guess.” Zayn nods and makes the move to stand, but then Liam opens his mouth and takes a breath, as if he’s about to speak, so Zayn lets himself sit back down. “There’s, um, actually just one little thing I’d like to know.”

Zayn nods. “Sure.”

“I was Cursed, wasn’t I?” Liam says tentatively. Zayn hesitates but he nods. “And not… not just with _Imperio,_ am I right? With the Cruciatus curse as well?”

Zayn takes a deep breath before he answers. “Yes, babe, yes you were,” he says hoarsely. “It was terrifying.”

Liam nods, and Zayn stays quiet for a second to let him drink it all in. “That’s why I ache so much, isn’t it?” he says finally. “And why you were so freaked?”

Zayn nods tightly. “How did you know?”

“I figured that Grip – fuck, I mean Agrippa – would want to be a bit, like, taunting, I guess,” Liam says darkly. “I’ve known him my whole life, and thinking back, you know, he was cruel and he was manipulative and I… he was my best friend by default, you know? I didn’t have a choice because our dads were best friends. This was always how it was going to go.”

Zayn’s quiet for a minute. “You deserve everything,” he says. “I’m so sorry, Liam, I’m so…”

Liam shrugs with one shoulder. “It’s over, isn’t it? He’s going away for a long, long time, and honestly? I thought I’d feel sadder about it than I do.”

“I would have killed him before he killed you,” Zayn gulps out. “I don’t care if he or his bastard brother would have killed me in the process. I wasn’t going to let you die at the hands of that fucking traitor.”

Liam shakes his head and leans in to kiss Zayn at the same time. It’s the first kiss the pair have shared since that morning and Zayn feels desperate for it. The second their lips meet he feels his eyes prick with tears again, and he pours every ounce of emotion and fear and love he has for him into it. It’s messy and it’s over too quickly as far as he’s concerned, but they really do have to go and see Louis.

“I don’t know why I’m so weepy,” he hiccups, pressing his and Liam’s foreheads together. “You’re alright, aren’t you?” Liam nods and kisses the little space in between his eyes. “And Louis’s probably alright too. We would have heard otherwise, wouldn’t we?” He pulls back from Liam, panicked. “Wouldn’t we?”

Liam gently and carefully wraps a hand around his wrist, then folds Zayn’s fingers into a fist and clutches it in both his hands. “Yes, we would. I promise we would.” He sighs. “We need to go before you give yourself an aneurysm.”

Zayn smiles sadly. “I’m sorry I dragged you into all this.”

Liam shrugs again and lets out a little laugh. “I’m pretty sure Agrippa did that all on his own.” Then the smile drops from his face, and he presses his lips together sadly. “I’ve gotta stop thinking of him as Grip my friend and more as Agrippa the killer. Agrippa the manipulator.”

“You do,” Zayn agrees with a sad laugh. “Okay, come on, let’s go. I’m stalling.”

Liam kisses him again briefly and the two head out. Zayn clutches Liam’s hand tight in his own, and doesn’t intend to let go until he absolutely has to.

*

Louis’s head is pounding, like someone is squeezing it with a vice or something. He feels heavy all over, too heavy to open his eyes. He’s warm, he knows that much, and he thinks he’s in a bed, but it’s not a bed he knows well. The duvet on top of him is heavy, and it smells a little like roses and a lot like Harry.

Where’s Harry?

He’s tired, so tired, and he isn’t sure what woke him because his entire body feels like it needs to rest for at least a week before opening his eyes is even an option. He tries to drift back under, but that’s when he becomes acutely aware of the shouting.

“You need to fuck off,” a voice he recognises – _Harry’s_ – is yelling. “You need to fuck off, because if you think you’re coming anywhere near him after what just happened you’ve got another thing fucking coming, _mate._ ”

“Harry, _please,_ ” a voice begs. That’s Zayn, that’s his best friend. Why doesn’t Harry want Zayn in here? “It’s not his fault.”

“Like hell it is,” Harry hisses. “I let you into my house. I let you come to my wedding, and this… this is how it ends?”

Wait, _wait._ Did he not get married? Did something happen? Can he even open his eyes to check?

He awkwardly clenches and unclenches his hand into a fist, but he doesn’t detect a wedding ring sat on his fourth finger, just the familiar platinum of his engagement ring. He takes a deep breath and tries once more to wake himself, and he almost jumps when he feels a hand cover his own.

“Lou?” Harry says desperately. “Lou, are you… can you hear me?”

 _Yes,_ Louis wants to say. _Yes darling, I’m right here. Please don’t sound so sad._

But he physically can’t, so he doesn’t. His hand jerks a little under Harry’s though, and it’s enough to make Harry let out a strange sound – a sob, maybe – and press a long, firm kiss into his twitching knuckles.

Louis’s just trying not to swoon (can you swoon when you’re not sure if you’re in a coma or not?) when Harry drops his hand and stomps away again just as fast. “You see?” he yells; oh no, he’s yelling again. “You see what _you’ve_ done?”

“No, Harry, I don’t,” Zayn’s shouting back. Oh, boy. “All I see is my best fucking mate in the whole world in a bed, safe because of what _you_ did. You saved his life, Harry. And no offence but I wasn’t exactly bone idle either. I did what I fucking could. And he’s safe and now I wanna fucking see him, is that alright?”

_What?_

Harry sniffs. “You’re fine. But it’s him,” he snarls. Louis can only assume he’s talking about Liam. “It’s him I don’t trust. He set this up. He set _us_ up.”

“Please, Harry,” Liam pleads. “It wasn’t me, it wasn’t… I would _never…_ ”

“But you did,” Harry snaps. “I don’t care, I don’t want you in here. That’s all there is to it.”

Louis would very much like to see all three of the people in this room, if only he could open his damn eyes. He tries again, but it hurts just a bit too much, and he kind of wishes Harry would come back over to hold his hand again.

“Harry…”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” Harry all but explodes, and Louis hears him thump his fist against something, a wall or a chest of drawers, maybe. “Just fuck off and let me wait for my dying fiancé to wake up in peace.”

_Dying?_

“For fuck’s sake, Harry,” Zayn retorts loudly. “Louis is _not_ dying. I know that and you know that. We _saved_ him and he’s going to be fine. The poison is out of his system and after a few days of rest he’ll be right as rain.”

_Poison?_

“Right as rain?” Harry repeats disbelievingly. His voice is about four octaves higher than usual, and Louis is scared for Zayn’s health more than he’s scared for his own right now. It’s a voice he knows well, but it’s only reserved for when he’s severely fucked up. “Right as fucking rain?”

“Yes, he’s going to be right as rain,” Zayn says, slowing down each syllable rather condescendingly. Louis could really do with opening his eyes right now. “I want to see my best mate, Harry. I know… _Merlin,_ I get it. I fucking get it, alright? If it was Liam lying there I’d be fucking defensive but I just want…”

“Yeah, well, it’s not Liam lying there, is it?” Harry replies haughtily. Louis can only imagine how he’s standing – arms crossed, shoulders high and defensive, his long feet tapping the floor because he’s always been unable to stay still when he’s mad. “It’s Louis. And _fuck,_ we should be married by now, Zayn, if your fucking job hadn’t put us in this shit-show of a situation.”

“What the fuck, Harry?” Zayn cries. “You can’t blame our fucking job. And it’s Louis’s job as well. And half our friends.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t Louis’s job to manipulate a murder suspect into falling in love with him, now, was it?” Harry spits, and _fuck._ Louis really needs to open his fucking eyes right the fuck now, but he also absolutely doesn’t want to because he doesn’t want to see the look of hurt that will inevitably be on Zayn’s face. It’s not like Harry at all to be this cruel, so Louis figures some serious shit must have happened.

“Harry…” Zayn croaks after a hideous few seconds of silence. “Harry, stop, don’t…”

Harry ignores him. “Did you hear that, Liam?” he continues to shout. “Zayn was paid to ask you out, he was paid to make you his boyfriend, and he was paid to keep it going for this long so they could use you to find the killer. It was never about him fancying you, it was about…”

“What?” Liam interrupts with a yell. “But that’s… that can’t be true, I mean… no… I mean… Zayn?”

There’s a long, pregnant pause. “Fuck you, Harry,” Zayn says, and it sounds like he’s crying. “Fuck _you._ ”

“He’s not… he’s not lying?” Liam barks, then it sounds like he too slams his fist against something solid. “What the fuck, what the _fuck?_ You said… you _promised me…”_ There’s another horribly long pause. “I can’t… after everything? You still lied?”

“Liam, please don’t go,” Zayn whimpers. “Please, please, Liam… Liam!”

A door slams and Louis can still hear Zayn as he presumably scampers after him. He feels awful and that’s not just because of the pounding in his head. He’s confused and disorientated and he has to wonder what the fuck happened to make his Harry turn into someone so cruel. He’s never known him like this at all.

He stays still as he focuses on working up the strength to open his eyes. After a couple of minutes, Harry comes and joins him again. He sits down on the edge of the bed and scoops up Louis’s hand again, then holds it to his cheek and uses it to cradle his face. Louis needs to see his face right the fuck now, so he focuses all his energy into his hand, and he eventually manages to curl his fingers around the tops of Harry’s, locking their hands together.

“L-Louis?” Harry says tentatively. “Lou? Louis? Are you…?”

Louis forces a deep breath and then he finally manages to blink his eyes open. He expects the room to be bright, but the curtains are drawn and the only light is coming from the abundance of candles dotted around the room. He lets out a long sigh and carefully turns his pounding head to look at Harry, who already has a tear sliding down his cheek.

“Haz,” he rasps softly. He could really do with a glass of water, because his throat feels like hell. “Hazza, fuck.”

“Lou,” Harry sobs, and he reaches forward and carefully brushes the hair from Louis’s eyes. Louis tilts his head just enough that he can nuzzle into his hand. Harry strokes his cheek and then moves enough to rest his head on the pillow next to Louis, keeping them pressed close. “I… _Lou._ I thought… _fuck,_ I really thought I was going to lose you today.”

“Sweetheart,” Louis croaks, and his arm feels like it weighs a tonne but he still manages to lift it up and wrap it around Harry’s neck. “Fuck, I ache. _Christ._ ”

Harry sniffs and brushes his nose against Louis’s hot skin, and it’s so familiar and comforting that Louis never wants him to stop. “I nearly lost you,” he repeats on a whisper, and it sounds like he’s about to cry properly at any minute. “I… um, do you need some pain killers?”

“In a bit,” Louis says. “I could do with some water though, if you could grab me some?”

“Of course,” Harry says, pulling himself ever so carefully out of Louis’s hold. He disappears and then reappears a few moments later with a cup of water. He sets it down and then helps Louis sit up enough so he won’t spill it or choke, then carefully holds the cup to his lips and lets Louis sip at it slowly until he’s had his fill.

“Thanks,” Louis says. He settles back against the pillows and makes grabby hands for Harry again, even if he is only a couple of feet away. Harry sets the half full cup back down and then carefully climbs back onto the bed. He touches Louis gently, like he’ll snap a bone if he hugs him too hard, and Louis appreciates the thought, he does, but he wants a fucking reassuring cuddle right the fuck now. “No, Harry, come here.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Harry says slowly, sadly. Louis shakes his head.

“You won’t,” he insists. “Come on now, under the covers. Cuddle me proper, there’s a good lad.”

Harry hesitates but carefully manoeuvres himself so he’s lying next to Louis. He reaches for his hand and gives it a squeeze, but doesn’t cuddle him in the way he wants to be cuddled, which is quite frankly unacceptable. He’s also still mostly wearing his dress robes, though he’s lost the shoes and the striking jacket somewhere along the way. Louis makes a note to ask him about that later, but for now he has a couple of other questions.

“Baby,” he says lowly, then winces as he tries to roll onto his side so he’s able to look Harry in the eye. Harry makes a frustrated, panicked sound through his nose and moves to press Louis back onto his back. “Baby, I’m okay. Okay, but I need you to talk to me a bit, okay?”

“Okay,” Harry sniffs. He squeezes Louis’s hand and then, almost on an afterthought, throws his leg over both of Louis’s so he’s curled around him. The move seems defensive, almost, and Louis’s so in love his heart aches a bit.

“What happened, darling?” he croaks. “What happened?” He gulps. “We didn’t get married, did we?”

He should have seen it coming, really, but he jumps when Harry bursts into tears. He pulls his hand from Louis’s and brings it up to his face, weeping uncontrollably into his palms. Louis reaches forward quickly, ignoring the aches and pains in his limbs so he can push himself into Harry’s arms as best he can. He kisses whatever part of him he can reach, and after a couple of minutes of Harry being purely rigid and hysterical, he then wraps his arms around Louis’s back, buries his face into his neck, and doesn’t let go.

“You… you… you _idiot,_ ” Harry hiccups eventually, and it’s so good to hear him talk rather than cry that Louis can look straight past any insult thrown his way. “I fucking… I watched you choke in my arms, Louis. I thought…” His voice breaks and he cuts himself off because he lets out another strangled sob. “I nearly lost you.”

“I would never,” Louis says, even though he doesn’t know what he’s answering to. “I… _Harry.”_

“Don’t leave me,” Harry weeps. “Fuck, Louis. Don’t… I couldn’t…”

“Never,” Louis promises, kissing at whatever inch of skin he can get his mouth on. “We’re gonna get married, baby, we’re gonna be together forever and ever and I’m not leaving you, I promise I won’t.”

“Marry me,” Harry cries, rubbing his snotty nose of Louis’s top. “Marry me again, you promise me you’ll marry me again.”

“I was always going to marry you,” Louis promises. “My baby. My sweet Harry.”

They lie there in silence for a little longer after that, both content for now to just hold each other. It’s reassuring and solidifying, almost, because Louis can feel Harry and smell Harry and fit his hands into the familiar curves and cracks of Harry’s body and know that even if he did nearly die, he’s always got his Harry. Then a thought strikes him.

“Wait,” he says lowly, and he would probably be sitting bolt upright if he had the strength. “Was… was Agrippa here? At our wedding?”

Harry doesn’t answer, but his deep breath and the way he’s clearly holding back another sob is answer enough. Louis makes a strangled sort of sound and then moves to hold Harry even closer to him, if that’s possible at this point.

“Fucking hell,” he says lowly, shaking his head disbelievingly. “Did he… is he the one who tried to poison me?”

Still no answer.

“Did he get away?” Louis asks, and his voice breaks with worry. Thankfully, Harry answers that one with a shake of his head, and Louis breathes the longest, deepest sigh of relief.

It’s over. It’s over, and it’s being handled somewhere by people who know what they’re doing. Louis can at least sleep easy with that knowledge. They _won._

“Harry, love,” he says gently, carefully. “It’s okay. I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere. Promise.”

Harry stutters on a breath, then squeezes his eyes tight shut before he nods. “I know,” he gets out after a few seconds, voice thick and wet. “I know, but… but… _Lou._ You were poisoned. Like, you could have died.”

“But I didn’t,” Louis says, and then he pauses again. “Wait. I didn’t die. He didn’t kill me.”

_“Louis.”_

Louis pets at Harry’s hair softly to placate him, but his mind is racing a mile a minute despite his throbbing headache. Why is he still alive? It doesn’t make sense, and that just adds to the list of questions Louis has. Everything is so much and he’s not sure how much more he can handle, especially Agrippa-related things. Right now, he doesn’t even want to think about that dickhead when Harry’s so upset.

“Baby?” he asks after a few more minutes of quiet. The only sounds now are their laboured breaths, and Harry’s occasional tired hiccup. “Baby, what happened with Zayn?”

Now it’s Harry’s turn to sit bolt upright, and even though he keeps his hand firmly locked in Louis’s, he glares at him with such a strange fire and anger that Louis almost jumps and tries to squirm away. “You heard that?”

“You weren’t quiet,” Louis says in a small voice. “Sweetheart – hey, _hey -_ calm down. It’s gonna be okay, whatever happens.”

“You heard that,” Harry repeats. “I can’t believe…”

“Darling, they’re our best friends,” Louis says quietly, cautious to keep his voice low because Harry is clearly rather spooked and upset for some reason. “I would quite like to know what they did.”

“I can’t believe you heard that,” Harry mutters again crossly. He sighs. “I did it for you.”

Louis tries to push himself up enough to wrap his arms around Harry’s neck, but he winces and falls back against the pillows with a sharp shout. Harry immediately looks concerned and rips his hand from Louis’s but Louis seeks it back out hurriedly and squeezes it through the wave of pain shooting up his spine. “Jesus fuck,” he grunts, then takes a deep breath. “Harry, can you come here?”

“I am here,” Harry says, confused.

“No, I mean…” Louis reaches up enough to rest a hand on his shoulder, then tugs him forward to encourage him back into their previous position. “I wanna be held and I need to know what happened with Zayn.”

Harry sniffs but he obliges, tucking his face into Louis’s neck and taking a long, deep breath. “The holding you I can do,” he mumbles, and it sounds so petulant but so _Harry_ that Louis laughs and kisses his hair. “The Zayn thing…” He sighs and Louis can feel him pouting against his skin. “I fucked up, Lou. _He_ fucked up too, but I… I think I went too far.”

“You did, little love,” Louis says, because he has to. “I heard it and I… baby, you know Liam was probably Cursed, don’t you?”

“I know,” grumbles Harry. “I do know that, but I was so mad, Lou. You nearly… my _Lou,_ you nearly…”

“Oh, baby love, baby,” Louis coos as Harry starts to cry again. Nothing will ever make his heart ache quite like the sound of Harry crying. “I love you and I’m here, I’m here, baby.”

“But you nearly weren’t,” Harry wails. “I wasn’t thinking… I - I’m so… I _couldn’t_ … ”

“You don’t have to,” Louis promises, and the ache is his body be damned; he rolls over and takes Harry in his arms, cradling him to his chest and chanting words of love and reassurance into his chest until the candles burn down and they’re bathed in the safety of night-time and the kind of comfort you can only get from a lover, the person you love the most. 

Louis knows everything about Harry there is to know. He knows how he looks when he’s asleep. He knows how he smells when he comes back for a run. He knows how much salt he likes to add to his food. He knows that he can’t keep his fingers still when he hears a beat, and he knows that Harry has a rich, deep, beautiful singing voice that he adores. He knows that Harry can’t go to bed without a cup of peppermint tea, and he knows he can’t go to work without his morning green tea. He knows just how self-conscious he can be about his skin, and he knows how much money he’s spent on potions to hide even the smallest of blemishes. He knows what it feels like to be held by Harry, to feel dwarfed in his best way as his younger boyfriend’s huge palms cup him in and make him feel safe, and he knows what it’s like to hold Harry, to cradle him and kiss him and to make endless promises that they’ll be together forever and everything’s going to be okay.

Everything is a mess, and will probably be a mess for a while. Louis has a million unanswered questions, and worries, and things that they need to address. But for now, he refuses to budge from Harry’s arms, and they eventually fall asleep still tangled together, the gentle sounds of Harry’s familiar breathing and sleepy snuffles making him feel infinitely better than any painkiller would.

*

Zayn runs after Liam at breakneck speed, but Liam’s fitter, faster, and also really fucking angry, so he dodges Zayn easily. His shouts are ignored, and in the end all Zayn can think to do is Apparate so he arrives at their room just before Liam storms in.

Liam stops in his tracks when he sees Zayn, mouth set in the tight line of anger. “What the fuck?” he snarls, eyes blazing with a fire Zayn has never seen before. Zayn immediately takes a step back, knocking his ankle against the coffee table and nearly falling flat on his arse. “What the _fuck,_ Zayn?”

“Liam…” Zayn says slowly, but he doesn’t make a move out to touch him like he wants to. He’s pretty sure he’s just lost that right. “Liam, I can explain…”

“Explain what, exactly?” Liam shouts. “How you lied? How you… you _lied?”_

“I thought… I wanted to protect you,” Zayn croaks, and he blinks back tears. “Everything I’ve done in the past year… I promise it was to protect you. I never wanted to hurt you, I never…”

“No,” Liam interrupts, stamping his foot. “No, Zayn. You _lied._ You said you wanted to…” He stops, cutting himself off before he slaps a hand over his mouth. “I feel so fucking _stupid._ I took such a fucking risk with you,” he says, shaking his head. “I thought it was a fucking _prank_ when you asked me out, and it _was_. I am such a fucking mug.”

“It wasn’t a prank…” Zayn dares to say. “I’ve always had a crush on you, alright?”

“Have you?” Liam spits. “Or was that just something you carefully convinced yourself you had to make it more bearable?”

“I love you,” Zayn sobs. “I’ve never lied about that. I love you with my whole fucking heart, Liam, and I’m pretty sure I always will.”

Liam covers his mouth with his hands, and the pair just stare at each other for a few seconds before Liam scrubs a hand over his face and shoves past him, going over to the wardrobe and grabbing his bag.

“I don’t want to be here right now,” he snaps as he starts shoving all manner of random clothes into the bag haphazardly. “I can’t even look at you, Zayn, I can’t…” He spins around to, rather contradictorily, look at Zayn, throwing his bag to the floor as he does so. “I nearly fucking _died_ today, Zayn. I nearly fucking died, and you were so… it’s so…”

“I never lied about how I feel for you,” Zayn tries again, voice wobbling, but clearly that wasn’t the right thing to say.

“Do you not get it?” Liam hisses. “None of this was _meant_ to be real, Zayn.” He lets out a frustrated groan and yanks his bag up again. “And everyone knew that. Everyone… your best friends… no fucking wonder Louis didn’t fucking like me. Was I the laughing stock of your office? Was I?”

“ _No,_ ” Zayn says firmly, then reaches forward but Liam flinches back, like Zayn’s touch would burn him. “Liam, baby…”

“You don’t get to call me baby anymore,” Liam yells. Zayn takes a rushed step back and he covers his mouth hurriedly to stifle his sob. “ _Fuck,_ Zayn, you can’t call me baby when I’m not…” He pauses and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. “Would you have ever asked me out if you hadn’t been paid to?”

Zayn can’t answer that, so he doesn’t.

Liam lets out a long, frustrated whistle, shoving his hair back angrily as he glares. “Wow,” is all he manages after several horrible seconds of silence. “Wow.”

“Liam…”

“No, fuck you, Zayn,” Liam snarls. “There is literally no fucking way you can get around this. You lied. You didn’t care about me enough to…” He stops himself again, then storms angrily towards the bathroom with a growl. “I’m going home. Back to my flat. I don’t… I don’t wanna be with you right now. I can’t…”

“At least… at least let me give you a goodbye,” Zayn croaks, voice thick with the tears that are threatening to burst out of him. “Or, you know, let me pretend I got one. Because I can’t not say goodbye to you, Liam, you mean… you’re literally everything to me…”

“Yeah, well, that’s only true because you got lucky, isn’t it?” Liam spits bitterly. “I hope the extra pay was worth it.”

“It’s literally never been about the money,” Zayn cries. “I only wanted to keep you safe! From day fucking one, all I wanted was you safe and happy and protected…”

“But it didn’t fit in with your little plan to have me forget half my childhood so you could find the killer?” Liam interrupts, and this time he sounds tired. “Or was it just nice to have someone to suck your dick on the regular, call you beautiful?”

“Liam, stop,” Zayn says as the tears finally start to spill. He’s not sure how he even has tears left to cry. “I don’t… I never fucking lied about my feelings for you, I swear… _please._ ”

But that’s it. Liam’s already zipping up his bag, and he’s slinging it over his shoulder, and then he’s leaving the room without another word. The door slams loudly, making Zayn wince, and he stands there, frozen in place, as everything he just spent the last nine months fighting for walks away from him.


	9. Aparecium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long!! it's a little shorter than previous chapters have been, but there's going to be an extra epilogue to compensate, promise!! thanks for your patience and kind messages, you're all so great<3

Louis wakes up on his twenty-fifth birthday with a mouthful of Harry’s hair.

It’s always pretty cold in their little cottage in the winter, sometimes cold enough that even Harry sleeps in pyjamas. Last night was one of those nights, snow thick on the ground and a dark, heavy sky barely letting any light through during the day. The pair had spent the previous day in thick socks and jumpers, fire crackling away merrily as they cuddled and baked together and did very coupley Christmas things.

Harry’s always had a bit of a thing about making the 24th about Louis rather than about Christmas, and Louis is always smug about it. But this year he’s especially grateful for it, because since it all happened he’s pretty much concluded that he doesn’t like fuss and he’s much happier in a smaller group, thank you very much.

With that in mind, Louis’s content to lay there in the warm comfort of Harry’s hold, happily letting him sleep on. His hand is resting on the soft mound of Harry’s tummy, a little rounder than usual thanks to it being the Christmas season, where his love of baking can really be exercised to its full potential. Harry himself always says he hates it, but Louis wouldn’t change it for the world. He wouldn’t change anything about him.

In and out, in and out. Harry’s snuffling, gentle breaths are rather soothing to his ears, and it’s nice to feel like everything has finally been allowed to slow down. Despite being signed off work until the start of the new year, he feels like he hasn’t stopped these past few months, what with trying to plan another wedding and going into the office anyway to help Harry Potter and Ron prepare for trial. His own Harry has spent a lot of the past few months torn, however, between picking up extra shifts to help pay for their second wedding, and not leaving Louis’s side for any longer than he has to.

“I’m not going to break,” he remembers telling him one morning from where he was lying on the sofa, swaddled in blankets. It was only early October at this point, and it was actually still quite warm outside, so Harry’s odd panic about Louis freezing to death while he was at work was rather futile. “Haz. _Harry._ Baby, stop.”

Harry pouts from where he’s tucking one of the blankets under the corners of the sofa cushions. “What?” he asks, like what he’s doing is completely rational and Louis is the one acting strange. “I don’t want your feet to get cold.”

Louis reaches down and snags Harry’s wrist, tugging on it until he topples forward onto the sofa. “I can - get up here, babe - I can maybe count on both hands the amount of times I’ve worn socks since I’ve known you,” he says, not so subtly rolling his eyes. “Does it look like I really care about cold feet, sunshine?”

Harry looks glum, so Louis leans forward enough to brush their lips together, just the lightest touch. He sighs into Louis’s mouth and then wraps an arm around his waist, letting himself be cuddled in.

“I know you don’t care about cold feet,” he says eventually, after a few minutes of Louis rubbing soothing circles into his back. “I know you’d probably be fine if I left you on your own, I do. I just don’t want you to feel…”

There’s a pause. “Feel what, baby?” Louis coaxes. He takes his free hand and uses it to nudge Harry’s chin up, so they’re eye level. “Hey. You don’t want me to feel what?”

Harry sighs. “Bored, I guess. Or neglected, or like…”

“Neglected?” Louis asks, baffled. “Woah, woah, woah. Why would I feel neglected?”

“I don’t know…”

Louis sighs and presses a long, lingering kiss into Harry’s forehead, and Harry melts a little in his arms and rests his head on his chest. “Babe. I know you’ve gotta work, and I’ll be honest, I wish I was at work too.”

“But the doctor said…”

“The doctor signed me off. I’m fine, the poison was all cleared from my system almost instantaneously. That’s the beauty of spell-casting and having friends who are high up in the Ministry,” Louis says dryly. “I am fine, babe. The doctor told me to rest a bit, but I think four weeks is more than ample time to try and recover from an attempt on your life.” Harry clings onto him a little tighter. “Baby. _Harry._ That was a joke.”

“Don’t joke about it,” Harry says pleadingly, voice muffled somewhat by the blankets and Louis’s jumper. “Please don’t joke about it. I’ll probably never find anything less funny.”

“Sweetheart, you’ve gotta laugh or else you’re gonna cry,” Louis says, and he kisses him again. But this time Harry doesn’t sink into it, just lets Louis get a mouthful of curls instead. “Okay, okay, I promise I won’t. Swear on my life.”

Harry moves his head up so he can glare at him. “Not funny, Lou.”

Louis holds up one hand in defeat. “I wasn’t trying to be funny this time, swear on my li- you know what?”

Harry readjusts his position so he’s lying atop Louis a bit more comfortably, but the sad expression on his face doesn’t fade. “What?”

“I think you should call in sick today,” Louis says. “I think you should stay with me, and we can talk about it and use this communication thing we’ve been implementing. You can tell me why you’re so nervous about leaving me when we know that the killer and his accomplices are safely in Azkaban and we have a hugely powerful team of Aurors and Hit Wizards basically on speed dial.”

Harry’s brows furrow. “What is speed dial?”

Louis groans and knocks his head back against the arm of the sofa. “Of all the stuff I said just now, you focus on the speed dial part of it.”

Harry smiles softly and tucks his face into the soft fabric of Louis’s armpit. “You’re right though,” he says slowly, again slightly muffled. “I don’t wanna work today. I wanna stay here with you always.”

“Then do it,” Louis says, and he knows he shouldn’t make a habit of this but he wants his boy with him today, sue him. “Or say I’m really ill or something and you can’t leave me.”

“I’m a terrible liar,” Harry pouts. Louis snorts and ruffles his hair, then reluctantly pulls out of his hold and walks over to the fireplace. He grabs a handful of Floo Powder, moves forward so his head is poking through the fireplace and he shouts “St. Mungo’s reception desk!”

After about ten seconds, he blinks aside green ash and dust to see Perrie in her white uniform. She waves at him and then leans across the desk to talk to him. “Hey, Lou. Harry’s not here.”

“I know,” Louis answers, hoping his voice doesn’t give him away. “That’s actually what I’m calling about, Pez. He’s caught something, the little bugger, he’s a right feverish mess today. I tell you, he was a bastard to share the bed with last night, sweating and kicking and farting like nothing I’ve ever…”

“Spare me anymore, if you don’t mind,” Perrie says, and pulls a face. “Do you know what it is? Has he taken anything for it?”

Louis shakes his head awkwardly. “I think it’s a stomach bug he must have caught from one of my sisters. It’ll clear up in a day but until then I’d say it’s probably best for him to be near his own toilet, you know?”

Perrie nods gravely. “I do know. Tell him get well soon from me!”

“Thanks, Pez,” Louis says, smacking his lips together in an exaggerated kiss before he pulls his head out the fire. He grabs his wand off the dining table and closes their Floo Network with a flick of it. “Alright, now that’s taken care of…”

“You really know how to talk your fiancé up,” Harry tells him, arms crossed. “Telling Perrie I’ve got some kind of violent diarrhoea, _honestly._ ”

Louis shrugs and wanders back over to him, a coy smile playing on his lips. “It worked, didn’t it?” he says, plonking himself in Harry’s lap. He pulls his arms over his shoulder and kisses the inside of Harry’s bicep, then leans back against his chest. “You feeling okay other than the pooey bottom?”

Harry snorts into his hair. “Stop.”

Louis grins and wiggles a little. “So come on then, babycakes. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

They’ve gotten better at communication since then, Louis thinks. Harry’s still a bit overprotective and perhaps over-coddles Louis just a tad. There are days when Louis hates it, and there are days when Louis wants nothing less than Harry all to himself.

His birthday is absolutely one of those days, but at the moment he’s still content to let him sleep on for a bit.

“I can hear you thinking,” present-day Harry mumbles. It almost makes him jump. “You’re thinking too loud for a morning this cold.”

“I didn’t even think you were awake,” Louis answers, loosening his grip enough for Harry to roll over easily. “I didn’t want to wake you. Do you want me to go and turn the heating up?”

Harry takes a deep breath, hiding his yawn in Louis’s forearm, then shakes his head. “Nah, stay here,” he breathes out quietly, voice still heavy with sleep. “You can keep me warm another way if you want.”

“Harry, baby,” Louis says, humour in his voice, “you haven’t even opened your eyes.”

Harry forces his eyes open and blinks at Louis sleepily. “Yes, I have. Look.” His expression softens into a smile, and he brings up a hand to cup Louis’s face, a soft thumb tracing the lines of his cheekbones. “Happy birthday, Lou.”

“Happy birthday, me,” Louis echoes quietly, dipping forward enough to brush their lips together. “I’m basically old now though. A right grandad.”

“You’re still beautiful to me,” Harry says, and it’s cheesy but it makes Louis smile. “Always will be, you know.”

“And to be honest, what else matters?” Louis hums. He presses his palm into Harry’s chest and pushes him onto his back, climbing on top of him and kissing him properly. “Nothing else matters if you love me.”

“I love you very much,” Harry says serenely. “Louis William Styles-Tomlinson.”

“Not for another two months, I won’t be,” Louis says sadly, then sighs. “Christ, I want that ring on my finger more than anything.”

“Two months isn’t too long,” Harry says quietly. He puckers his lips for another kiss that Louis readily gives him. “I know that doesn’t mean a lot coming from someone who you know doesn’t believe it…”

“But you’re right, it isn’t that long,” Louis finishes. He sighs again and then rests his head on Harry’s warm chest, sliding his thigh between Harry’s legs. “And it’s worth it, obviously.” He rubs his nose over Harry’s collarbones. “You deserve the big, fancy wedding you’ve always wanted, you really do.”

“Thank you,” Harry says, voice small. “I know it’s… I know it wasn’t the easiest decision on your part but I really did…”

“Baby,” Louis interrupts gently. He wraps his arms around Harry’s shoulders and rolls them back onto their sides, chests pressed together. He kisses his jaw. “I said yes because I want this. If I didn’t want this, I could easily have said no.” He cups Harry’s chin and moves their mouths together again. “Have a little faith, yeah? It’s gonna be fine this time around.”

Harry moves in to kiss him again harder, and Louis can’t help but melt into it. It’s a little more desperate in a sense he didn’t imagine his birthday morning kisses to be, but he holds Harry anyway and he’s gentle and soft, tender in the way he knows they both need whenever the topic of their wedding comes up.

He reasons with himself that if Harry had ever laid dying in his arms, he probably would be reluctant to ever let him go again either.

“Let’s make love,” Harry whispers into his cheek, spreading his legs further apart underneath Louis. “Let me make love to you on your birthday, Lou.”

Louis takes a deep, haggard breath and nods, kissing Harry even harder than before. “Okay,” he sighs, smoothing his arms up and down Harry’s lightly, tenderly. “Okay,” he murmurs as Harry rolls them over and slides Louis’s sweatshirt up to his armpits, kissing down the soft plains of his tummy. “Okay,” he whines, back arching, as Harry gets his hands under his bum, fingers brushing over his crack and pressing just enough inside for him to want more.

Sex has always been greatly important for the pair of them, but nowadays Harry seems insatiable; however, not insatiable in the way Louis was expecting. They’ve always been a fairly versatile pair – Louis’s never been hugely bothered about whether he’s topping or bottoming as long as it’s with Harry – but these days Harry’s been so focused on making it all about Louis that Louis’s not sure he knows how to top anymore. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t been the one doing the fucking since before it all kicked off, and while he does love a good dicking, sometimes he just wants to be the one taking care of Harry.

Because Louis isn’t stupid. He knows exactly what all this is about. This is another one of Harry’s special ways of taking care of him, and that means Louis doesn’t have to worry about doing any of the work a lot of the time. Even if Louis (literally) manages to get a leg up and rides him for a bit, Harry will still roll him over for their climax and hold him through it.

It’s nice, and it always does something to Louis to know that Harry wants to cherish him in this way, but sometimes he thinks Harry should let him do the same to him. With that in mind, he squirms a little in Harry’s hold, then tries (and fails) to flip them over.

Harry’s strong enough to keep them steady, however, so he ends up just furrowing his brows at Louis, bottom lip jutting out all confused. “What are you doing?” he asks. “I thought I was taking care of you.”

Louis grins despite himself. “Sweetheart,” he coos, because he knows there’s not much that makes Harry melt more than being called sweetheart. “I’ve changed my mind. I wanna be on top. I wanna fuck _you._ ”

Harry’s breath hitches and Louis smirks, using the opportunity to draw Harry’s pouting lip between his teeth and tug. Harry whines and his arms almost give way, and this time Louis manages to flip them over with relative ease.

“Kiss me,” he says lowly, then doesn’t wait for a response before he fits their lips together. It’s messy, but they both sink into it until Louis absolutely has to pull back for breath. “Let me do this for you.”

Harry lets out the gentlest of whines, soft and desperate already. Louis brushes his mane of hair out the way and then attaches his lips to the juncture of Harry’s neck and shoulder, biting down in the way he knows will make Harry’s back arch off the bed beautifully.

“Lou,” he hears him whisper, then one hand slides up his back, underneath his sweatshirt, and rests there, holding him nice and close. “Lou, yes. _Please._ ”

“There we are, love,” Louis grins, then swaps to the other side of Harry’s neck. “Knew you wanted this, knew you _needed_ this.”

“Maybe,” Harry says breathlessly, then he moans again. “But I just… I love taking care of you the most…”

“I know you do,” Louis agrees as he kisses back up towards Harry’s jaw. His morning breath is probably pretty unpleasant, but Harry doesn’t complain when he hovers only inches from his lips. “But a marriage is a two-way street, baby love. Sometimes I need to be the one taking care of you.”

“Even – _shit –_ even on your birthday?” Harry asks, cursing as Louis slides his hands under his hips and starts to tug down his pyjama bottoms. His cock slides out and falls against his thigh, half-hard already. Louis grins.

“Baby, you’re the best present I could ever ask for,” he promises, knocking their foreheads together. “Come on now, darling, let’s get you naked.”

He does feel a little out of practice as he reaches over to their bedside table for the lube, but he knows Harry’s body like the back of his hand and he falls back into the familiarity of it easily. Harry spreads his legs and Louis takes a pillow from his side of the bed to prop his hips up, and once he’s stripped Harry of his shirt (and his comical Christmas bed socks) he settles between his legs. His own shirt is sticking to the back of his neck with sweat, and so he peels it off clumsily before he uncaps the lube and starts to spread it across his ring and middle fingers.

“How are you feeling?” he asks Harry, brushing his lips over his kneecap. “Are you okay?”

“Do I want you inside of me, what kind of question?” Harry huffs, sounding impatient. Louis snorts. “Come on, you.”

“I’ll come wherever you want me to, sweetheart,” Louis says gleefully, then shuts up Harry’s answering groan by slowly adding a finger. Harry’s whine turns into something a little more breathless, and he lies still, letting Louis gently start working the finger in and out. It’s clear it’s not the most comfortable, but it has been a while and Louis is half tempted to take his cock in his mouth as a distraction.

“Hurts a little,” Harry whimpers suddenly, making Louis freeze. “Forgot how… forgot how it feels.”

Louis kisses his hipbone. “I’ll slow down,” he promises, then he does just that. He’s gentle as he moves the rest of his body forward, brushing Harry’s hair away once more and hovering over him, watching him with curious eyes. “Do you wanna flip over for this? Just to try and take the edge off this bit?”

Harry sucks in a breath, but he nods. “Okay,” he agrees, then lets his legs drop open so Louis can pull his finger out. Louis leans back so Harry can get his gangly limbs in order, then he moves forward to readjust the pillow so it’s under Harry’s chest this time. Harry sighs and reaches his hand back, which Louis takes with his clean hand and squeezes. “Okay,” he says again. “’m ready.”

“Okay,” Louis says, then finds the bottle of lube again and adds more directly to Harry’s hole. “I’m gonna use my ring finger now, okay?”

“How… romantic,” Harry grits out, then takes a deep breath as Louis breaches him again. Louis laughs breathlessly but raises himself up on his haunches so he can get a better look. There’s something just so _hot_ about doing this – it’s been so long since he’s done this and he’s forgotten just how much he enjoys watching his fingers disappear inside Harry’s tight little body – knowing he’s trusted completely and that Harry knows he’s going to make it as good for him as he can.

“You know me,” he grins, then slips in another finger as he slides the other out. Harry groans and Louis watches as he buries his face in his arms. “Always the romantic one. The most romantic out of the two of us for sure.”

“Fuck off,” Harry whines, fucking his hips back a bit. Louis grins and bites at the flesh of his arsecheeks, making him yelp.

“Love you,” Louis says in response, sliding his free hand between his legs so he can get a hand on himself. He gives himself a few sharp tugs to take the edge off himself, then carefully moves to slide in a third finger, keen to get Harry stretched. “Is this better?” he asks.

“Yeah, fuck,” Harry slurs. Louis kisses his skin again, then moves forward to carefully move his fingers to brush them over where he remembers Harry’s prostate to be. Once he hits it, Harry lets out the most beautiful moan, arse thrusting back higher and clenching hotly around Louis’s hand. “Oh _fuck,_ so good, Louis, _please,_ please, I wanna…”

“You’ve changed your tune,” Louis says delightedly, then crooks his fingers again. Harry whines louder. With every thrust of Louis’s fingers he makes a gorgeous, desperate little noise in his throat, and Louis knows that neither of them are going to last at this rate, not when Harry’s so fucking beautiful and drives Louis completely wild. “Okay, babe, I’m gonna pull out now.”

“Lou,” Harry croaks weakly at the loss. Louis wipes his fingers on Harry’s Christmas sock then reaches forward to take his baby by the hips. He straightens his body out and rolls him back over, then nudges forward to kiss him once they’re face to face again.

“I love you so much,” he whispers against Harry’s lips, then breaks into a huge, dopey smile once Harry mumbles them back. It’s almost with a reluctance that he moves back onto his knees so he can take his cock in hand, all ready to press it against Harry’s entrance, but he stops for a brief moment, just to drink in the sight of the man he loves, wrecked and whining because of _him._ Harry’s sweating, forehead and chest covered in a thin sheen, and his skin is red in patches. There are beads of precum bubbling from his dick, which is sitting hard and heavy against his belly, and Louis wants to personally thank whichever part of fate decided to bless him with his Harry.

So he moves forward, leaning over Harry a bit, and he presses his cock in between Harry’s cheeks. He nudges forward even more, mindful to stay slow, and then he’s inside of Harry for the first time in fucking _months,_ tight and hot and so, so much that Louis isn’t convinced he’s going to last.

“ _Lou,_ fuck, Louis,” Harry grits out, his sharp little nails scratching at his chest. “Feel so _good,_ so full…”

“Does it hurt, darling?” Louis asks, carefully watching Harry’s expression for any sign of discomfort. Harry shakes his head, then slides his hands up Louis’s chest to wrap them around his neck. He clenches around him, almost teasingly, then kisses him quickly on the lips.

“Move,” he guides, and Louis is absolutely more than happy to oblige. He shuffles back and then slams back in, and he must have nailed Harry’s prostate because he’s never quite seen anything like the way Harry’s back arches and his mouth drops open in some kind of ecstasy. Louis falls forward onto his forearms and uses them as leverage, because now he knows this position is going to drive Harry wild he’s not going to change it.

He drives into him until he’s found a comfortable rhythm, but he’d be lying to himself if he said he thought this was going to last. His orgasm is already heavy in his belly, wound tight like a coil, and it’s not long before his thrusts get sloppier. Harry’s breaths are wheezing and he seems so out of it already that Louis just wants to make him come and kiss him stupid. He never takes his eyes off of Louis, their usual bright green now dark with lust. Louis licks into his mouth and presses close, trying to breathe in and taste and smell absolutely everything Harry has to offer, and Harry kisses back but it’s sloppy, like he isn’t sure how his mouth works anymore he’s that overwhelmed.

“Close,” Louis hears him whine once he’s moved his lips from Harry’s mouth to his neck. “Keep going, keep going, Louis, _fuck,_ oh _fuck…_ ”

He’s tired, can feel the exhaustion and weariness from not having been awake long in his bones, but if Harry asked he’d give him the world, so he doubles his efforts and slams in again. Harry jerks as he hits his prostate again, and the force of Louis’s thrusts ends up moving him a few inches up the bed, so he’s sitting a little higher up the pillows. It’s easier for them to kiss at this angle, so they do, sloppy and hurried as Louis cups Harry’s face then snakes his hand between their hot bodies and wraps a hand around Harry’s hard dick.

“Love you, love you, love you,” Harry chants, then locks his ankles across Louis’s back and digs his heels in. “Oh, _oh,_ gonna come, I’m gonna…”

He stops talking in favour of letting out a gorgeous, broken moan as he spills over Louis’s fist. Louis tries to keep fucking him but it’s hard, both for his burning thighs and his aching cock. Harry clenches around him so fucking tight, and Louis can’t help but come inside him hard with a stutter of, “fuck, Harry.”

He sort of collapses on top of him because his arms and thighs are too tired to keep him upright anymore, but Harry seems unphased and wraps his long arms around Louis’s body, lips pressed into his hair. Louis grins into his chest, one hand resting just above Harry’s heart, and he lets his eyes fall closed for a brief few seconds. He’s fucked out and warm, happy to not talk for a bit in favour of Harry’s comforting embrace.

“Wow,” Harry breathes out after a while, then giggles. “Fuck, Lou.”

“I certainly did,” Louis replies, not bothering to open his eyes. “I fucked you real good.”

“You’re still in me,” Harry says, then makes a happy noise as he nuzzles his nose into Louis’s damp hair. “Fuck, that’s so hot. I’ve missed doing it this way.”

“You’re an awful sap,” Louis tells him, opening his eyes and pulling back just enough to gaze up at him fondly. “How are you feeling? Sore? Want me to pull out?”

Harry yawns. “Yeah, maybe you should. I don’t wanna be waddling for the rest of the day.”

“I love you with a waddle,” Louis smirks, then reluctantly moves himself so he can pull out of Harry’s bum. Harry inhales sharply as he does so, and Louis pulls a face in apology then kisses Harry’s forehead before he hurries towards the bathroom for a warm flannel.

It’s fucking freezing in their little cottage, and Louis ends up doing a fairly comical dance where he bounces from one leg to the other in a bid to keep warm as he runs the tap and waits for the water to heat. Once it’s warm enough, he runs the flannel under it and then sprints back, bouncing onto the mattress and making Harry jump and whine when he rips the duvet away from his body.

“Wah, Lou, what the fuck?” Harry barks, using his feet to try and snag it back up. “It’s fucking arctic in this house, you bastard.”

Louis pretends to roll his eyes and then clambers on top of him, ignoring the wet patch the flannel has left on his pillow. He’ll spell-dry it in a minute. He wraps his hands around Harry’s thighs and yanks him forward, slamming their lips together instead of actually cleaning him up, which he can admit is perhaps a little redundant.

Eventually they pull apart, and Louis uses the now lukewarm flannel to wipe between Harry’s cheeks, then a little over his belly and chest. He drops it to the floor afterwards and ignores the wetness on his pillow in favour of pressing so close to Harry he can share his.

“I love you a lot,” he murmurs, kissing Harry’s neck. Harry winds an arm across Louis’s waist and hums happily, sucking a lovebite into Louis’s neck in response. “This has the potential to be the best birthday ever if you’ve gotten me excellent presents, you know.”

Harry snorts an ugly laugh and pats him rather condescendingly on the hip. “I’d almost forgotten it was your birthday,” he tells him. “But obviously I got you the best presents ever. And I’ve got the best food in ever. It’s gonna be such a good day for you, Lou.”

Louis grins. “I’m glad,” he hums. “Is it just you and me or are the rest of my family turning up at some point?”

“Just me and you,” Harry says, then rolls them over into a position so they’re looking at one another. “Thought that would be a bit more, you know, personal and stuff. Oh, I did say Zayn could come over for tea, but I’ll be honest, he didn’t seem that keen.”

“Rude,” Louis scoffs, but he understands and he doesn’t press. “Can I have my presents now?”

Harry shakes his head, a smug grin on his face. “It’s cold, baby, can we not wait a bit?”

“No,” Louis pouts. “It’s always gonna be cold. We just need to rip off the duvet and get on with it.”

“You can,” Harry says, then dugs the duvet off of Louis’s naked body and tucks it under himself, snuggling up into it. Louis yelps at the sudden cold and lunges forward to tackle Harry and claim back what’s rightfully his, but it ends up with them snogging and rolling around for a little while longer.

In the end, Louis doesn’t get his presents until it’s starting to get dark outside. He can’t say that he minds.

*

They had intended to spend their first Christmas as a married couple as just the two of them. Harry had mentioned it one day in passing months ago, before it all went wrong, thinking it would be great practice for when they had a family of their own. Louis had agreed with a dopey grin on his face, because not only would he happily do anything to make Harry happy, but the idea of _family_ was spinning around his head like a Snitch in chase.

However, things change and circumstances change, so now they’re spending it at the Styles’ home in Cheshire. Before that plan was proposed, Louis had actually offered their home for the day to Zayn, saying it might be nice for the three of them to spend the day together, but Zayn had quickly waved that plan aside.

“No offence, Lou, but I don’t think I can handle Christmas Day with you and Harry being the golden couple while I’m single and sad about it,” he’d said, and even though Louis knew he had a point, he was still mildly offended. “Besides, I don’t… I don’t really want to talk to Harry right now.”

Louis had winced but he understood. The whole situation between Harry and Zayn was a big point of contention, and in all honesty, Louis wasn’t sure what the bloody hell he was going to do about it.

Whenever he mentioned it to Harry, Harry just got exceptionally defensive and argued he simply was doing what he thought he had to, but he forgets that Louis knows him better than anyone. Louis knew how guilty it was making him feel, and the fact that Louis only felt like he could see Zayn when Harry was at work seemed to exacerbate the situation more.

In a way, Louis’s glad the situation ended up confronting itself. It all came to a head one chilly day in mid-November, on an evening where the rain was heavy and it sounded like it was beating at the roof of their cottage. Harry was cooking chicken pie and veggies for their supper, and while they waited for it to cook the pair had retreated to the sofa to watch some telly, Harry’s back pressed to Louis’s front as Louis carded his hand through Harry’s soft hair.

Without warning their fireplace blasted into life, making Louis almost jump out of his bloody skin. Instinctively, he wraps his arms tight around Harry’s shoulders, but once he realises it’s Zayn stumbling into his living room, hair all over the place and tears pouring down his face, he practically shoves Harry to the floor in his haste to get to him.

“Zayn? Babe?” he says, rushing forward and reaching out to grab his hands. “Babe?”

Zayn’s trembling, walking vaguely in Louis’s direction but it’s like he’s not there. His eyes look like they’re not registering anything in front of them, and Louis moves to guide him towards a dining chair before he trips over something or kicks the cat.

“Hazza, pop the kettle on, good lad,” he calls over his shoulder, then crouches down in front of Zayn, pressing his hands on his knees. “Zayn, hey. Hey, love, it’s me.”

“He’s gone,” Zayn croaks in response. “He’s gone.”

Louis takes a deep, careful breath. “Who is gone, love?”

“Who… do you think?” Zayn says, voice ragged. He buries his face in his hands and starts to cry harder. “I… he’s _gone…_ I can’t _breathe…_ ”

“Yes, you can,” Louis coaxes, gripping Zayn’s legs a little firmer. “ _Zayn._ Zayn. Breathe for me, babe. Breathe.”

“He’s gone,” Zayn wails instead, huge sobs wracking his body to the point where Louis worries he’s going to dislodge himself from the chair. “I can’t… he’s just… he’s fucking _gone_ and I’m so fucking _sad…_ all the time. I don’t know… who I am anymore.”

“You’re Zayn,” Louis says softly. “Great hair. Beautiful face. Best mate. _Best_ best mate. It’s… it’s going to be okay?”

He doesn’t mean to phrase it like a question, and ultimately this probably doesn’t help matters, because Zayn lets out an even louder sob and flings himself at Louis. Louis catches him precariously and clings to him, rubbing a gentle hand up and down his back. He’s never ever seen him like this and it’s awful, really, because he has no idea what to do or how to comfort him. Something has clearly happened, and that something was probably messy. Louis doesn’t know what to do.

“Darling,” he coos, and tries to pull back, but Zayn’s grip is tight. “Darling,” he says again, a little firmer. “Come on, Zayn, let’s… well, let’s get you comfy for a start.” He starts to gently tug Zayn over towards their sofa. “Hazza, how’s that tea coming?”

 “In a minute,” Harry calls back, and his voice sounds wobbly too. Louis really doesn’t want to deal with a fistfight between his two favourite people, so he doesn’t shout back and instead plops Zayn down on the sofa and crouches back down in front of him.

“Hey,” he says, trying to keep his voice calm. “Zayn. Babe. Can you… do you want to tell me what happened?”

“He’s gone,” Zayn trembles, gripping at Louis’s hands over his knees, sharp nails biting at Louis’s skin. “He… he’s just…”

“Yeah, I know, love, but why are you crying this much about it now?” Louis asks carefully. He reaches up and brushes some of Zayn’s falling fringe from his eyes. “So what happened?”

“He… I…” Zayn sniffs, then freezes when he hears Harry shuffle back into the room and set a mug down on the coffee table. “He, um, he’s left me for good, I think. Well, I _know._ ” He laughs humourlessly and buries his face back in his hands. “He says he can’t even look at me after what he’s found out, so…”

Louis turns to look at Harry, who’s pointedly looking anywhere but at Zayn, then he turns back to Zayn and squeezes his knees.

“Do you need me to ask Harry to leave the room?” he says gently. He winces as he says it, because the last thing he wants to do is hurt Harry’s feelings on top of all this, but clearly Zayn is priority at the moment. He tries to ignore Harry’s sharp intake of breath and squeezes Zayn again. “Hey? Because he will if you need him to.”

Harry makes a small, hurt sound, so small that Louis probably wouldn’t have picked up on it if he didn’t know him so well. But Zayn shakes his head, still not removing his head from his hands.

“No,” he whines quietly. “He can stay. I’m not…” He sighs and then takes a long, deep breath. “I am mad at him, I’m _so_ mad, but like. It’s his house. I can’t just…”

“You can if you want him to,” Louis says firmly. “Look, I get it. I do. But he hurt you and you have every right to…”

“Excuse me,” Harry interrupts loudly, hurt evident in his tone. “Wait a minute here. This isn’t fucking fair.”

“Haz…”

“No, Louis, shut up,” Harry says, and he crosses his arms defensively across his chest. “I don’t appreciate this. You’re making me out to be the bad guy like…”

“No offence, love, but you were the bad guy a little bit,” Louis says, trying for soft but realising there isn’t really any way to tiptoe lightly around this. “It wasn’t your place, and yeah, I fully support Zayn on being a little pissed off with you right now.”

“Wow, thanks,” scoffs Harry. He furrows his brows and storms back towards the kitchen. “Fuck you, Louis, fuck…”

“No, Harry, wait…”

“Harry,” Zayn rasps, wiping his eyes on his sleeve and running damp fingers through his ruined hair. “Harry, can we talk?”

Harry freezes, spinning slowly on his heel to face the pair of them again. His arms are still crossed and he still looks furious. “What?” he asks snappily. “Do you want to yell at me some more?”

“No,” Zayn moans. “I’m fucking done with yelling, and crying, and all of it. I’m so fucking _sad,_ and I’m so fucking mad at you but I don’t want to be mad at you because there is a part of me that thinks you did the right thing.”

“ _What_?” Harry and Louis both blurt at the same time. One look from Harry tells Louis to shut up, so he does, moving up to perch next to Zayn on the sofa.

“Yeah, I mean,” Zayn sniffs, “it wasn’t, like, great, what you said. It was fucking horrible, actually. I didn’t know you had it in you to be so cruel.”

“My fiancé was fucking dying!” Harry spits, stamping his foot against the carpet. “I was so fucking angry, Zayn. I didn’t know what I was saying. I thought…” He cuts himself off and slams a hand against the wall in a balled up fist, making both Louis and Zayn jump. “What was I meant to do? Welcome you in with open arms?”

“Yes,” Zayn answers in a voice about four octaves higher than his usual one. “We’re your best friends, Harry. And I get that it was shitty and horrible and I can’t even imagine what you were going through, I get it. But what I don’t fucking get is why you turned on _me._ ”

“I…” Harry starts, then puts his hands on his hips and scowls. Louis fumbles for one of Zayn’s hands, taking it with a reassuring squeeze. “I didn’t turn on _you._ I was angry at…”

“At Liam, yeah, I fucking get it,” Zayn explodes, then starts crying again. “You just didn’t need to do that-t-t.”

He flings himself back into Louis’s hold and Louis opens his arms for him, cradling him against his chest and glaring at Harry over his shoulder. Harry glares back, but Louis can see the touches of hurt and the uncertainty and guilt in his expression, and he tries to soften his face so it read _I’m fucking angry at you and I think you were a bit out of order, but I know really you’re sorry and I love you for standing up for me._

“Fuck, I fucking hate both of you,” Zayn groans, muffled by Louis’s jumper. “I know you’re having one of those silent couples conversations and I’m just… I’m so fucking jealous.”

Louis snorts and presses a quick kiss into Zayn’s hair. “Sorry, babe,” he says quickly. “Look, I love you both so much, and I hate that this happened. I hate that it’s pushing you apart. I just… look, Harry, you fucked up. You did.” He shrugs quickly, then barrels on before Harry can interrupt. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I love you, but you did. But… but Zayn, can you, like, elaborate on what you meant when you said he did the right thing?”

Zayn nods, wiping his eyes on a sweater paw and scratching the back of his neck with the other hand. “Yeah, I mean, I feel like if it had been down to me, I never would have told him, you know? Like, the lie would have just continued and gotten deeper and stuff. Then one day a few years down the line he would have found out a different way and it could have been much worse for us. So maybe it is for the best, I dunno.”

“I… I see,” Louis says carefully. “I mean, that isn’t cool either, Zayny, but yeah, I get you.”

“So he has every right to hate me, because I fucking lied to him when I ‘came clean’,” Zayn air-quotes. “I told him we were together when I was told to keep an eye on him, didn’t I? So he thought every lie I’d told him I’d set straight, basically,” Zayn explains, then groans. “Merlin, he was always a million times too good for me, wasn’t he?”

“Absolutely not,” Louis says firmly, fiercely. “Because I know you never lied about your feelings, and we all know he was completely head over heels for you too. It’s a shitty situation, but I can guarantee he hasn’t fallen out of love with you just yet. He’s hurting, and so are you. These things take time to heal. You can’t expect them to heal overnight.”

“I know,” Zayn says miserably. He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and toys with it with his front teeth. “I know, so that’s why I thought he’d be better when I saw him today.”

“You saw him today?” Louis asks, shocked. “Why didn’t you say?”

“What, you thought I was just crying like that because I miss him? Geez, Louis, I’m not a complete wetter,” Zayn tuts, then laughs, actually laughs. It makes Louis grin, and from out the corner of his eye Louis can see Harry crack a small smile. “No, no, I saw him. He, um, he came round, actually.” He lets out a long sigh and shakes his head. “It was fucking awful, Lou, and I couldn’t stay in that flat, I couldn’t…”

“You know you’re always welcome here,” Louis chips in quickly. “Always, always.”

“I… I know,” Zayn says quietly. “I just…. I’m not very good at admitting I need help. You know that.”

“I do,” Louis agrees, a tiny smile playing on the corners of his lips. He bundles Zayn up against his chest again and keeps stroking down his back. “So what happened, babe?”

Zayn tenses a little before he speaks. “He… he came round, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Okay, he did,” Zayn huffs. “I still have – _had ­_ – some of his things. Jumpers and mugs and expensive potions and stuff.”

“So he came by to collect them? Unannounced?” Louis asks carefully.

Zayn nods. “Yep. I answered the door and he, um, well. He asked if he could speak to Niall because he didn’t want to speak to me ever again.”

“Jesus,” Louis mutters.

“I know right,” Zayn says sadly. “So I let Niall collect all his stuff for him, and I just hid in the bathroom. I can’t… I get he can’t even look at me, but I can’t look at him not looking at me, if you get what I mean.”

“Oh, love,” Louis says sadly, so sadly that it makes Zayn’s eyes prick with tears again. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“I did, I did, I did,” Zayn weeps, hiding his face in the front of his jumper. “I did, I’m awful, I fucked up, I…”

Before Louis can really gauge what’s going on, he’s being shoved unceremoniously backwards as Harry flings himself at Zayn, bundling him up into a tight, gangly hug. Zayn clings to him and lets himself be rocked, but he’s crying harder as Harry starts chanting, “you didn’t deserve it, you didn’t, you _didn’t…”_

“I did,” Zayn shouts, then he slumps and lets Harry cradle him. Louis jumps up off the sofa and moves round so he can tuck himself into Zayn’s other side, the tight squeeze between his and Harry’s melding bodies and the arm of the sofa. He manages it (just) and then puts a supportive hand back on Zayn’s back, hooking his chin over his shoulder and nuzzling in.

“You didn’t,” he promises, stroking over Zayn’s hip in what he hopes is a soothing manner as Zayn’s breath catches and he stutters out another sob. “Babe. You fucked up, you did. You apologised and you told him how you felt and now it’s his problem if he wants to act like a dick about it.”

“But he’s within his rights to act like I’m a dick,” Zayn argues, voice weak.

“Not if he’s going to make you feel like shit like that,” Harry says hoarsely, surprising them both a bit. “You’re still a fucking person, and you were an important person in his life for a long time. You still are an important person. He can’t just pretend like you don’t exist, that’s stupid and a bit childish, really.”

“I wish I didn’t love him this much,” Zayn whines. He just sounds tired at this point. “I wish I didn’t love him so much that my heart literally aches with it.” He sniffs and pulls back, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder as he wipes his eyes with his sweater paws again. “I don’t know how to sleep alone anymore.”

“Babe,” Louis says miserably, kissing his shoulder again. “I don’t… I mean, you’re not expected to get over this in a couple of months, but you will. You’ll get there.”

“You were joking only a few months ago about our wedding,” Zayn says bitterly. “And now I’m back to square one, it’s like… I don’t know how to be happy without him. He made me so happy, and I hate it.”

“Don’t hate it,” Harry says gently, carding his fingers through the back of Zayn’s hair. “Don’t hate it at all. It’s so important that you remember how happy you were, Zayn.”

“You know we’ve both become quite fond of Liam, but you’re always going to be my priority,” Louis promises. “You’re my best friend in the whole entire world.”

“You’re mine too,” Zayn sniffs, reaching for Louis’s hand. “You’re both my favourites and honestly? I don’t think I’d be able to cope if you and me stayed mad at each other, Haz.”

“Zayn, I’m so sorry,” Harry says glumly. “I’m really so fucking sorry I fucked it up.”

“I know,” Zayn mumbles. “I know you are, you utter shitpiece.” Harry smiles sadly and kisses his ear.

“Hey, you wanna stay for tea?” Louis asks. “It’s homemade chicken pie.”

“Please,” Zayn moans, then his stomach decides that that’s its cue to growl. He laughs a little then scrubs at his face again. “I don’t wanna go home if you don’t mind. Plus it’s nice to spend some time with you two. I’ve… I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too,” Louis says lowly. “Here, I’ll make you another cuppa. That one’s probably cold.”

“Yeah, it should be nearly ready,” Harry adds. “Do you mind laying the table?”

“Not at all,” Zayn says, and the three of them get up in unison and head towards the kitchen. “Thanks for this, guys.”

“Not a problem, not a problem at all,” Louis insists, sliding a hand over his hip before he passes through the doorway. He pops the kettle back on the hob and then grabs his wand from the side, tapping it against the side a few times so it heats up a little faster. He reaches over to the cupboard to grab a mug and watches with great amusement as Harry bends over the oven, his bum shoved outwards as he hoicks out the pie. “Well, well, well.”

Harry plonks the pie on the side and it hisses and sizzles. It smells amazing. “Can you grab some plates while you’re over there?” he asks Louis. Louis nods, grabs them, then spreads them out along the side, pressing his wand onto each of them briefly so they’re nicely heated for the food. “Thanks.”

“Hey,” Louis says quietly, moving forward and pressing his hands onto Harry’s hips gently. He’s mindful to keep his voice down. “Thanks for that.”

“Thanks for what?” Harry mumbles, feigning innocence, but they both know he knows. “All I did was comfort our best friend.”

“I… yeah, you did,” Louis says, smiling. He decides to drop it. “I love you, you know. And I’m sorry if I pissed you off.”

Harry sighs then starts slicing at the pie maybe a little too sloppily. “You didn’t piss me off,” he says exasperatedly. “It’s just, like, I knew I’d fucked up, like, the second those words left my mouth back there, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. You were still passed out or whatever, and I just…” He lets out a frustrated little sound and puts the knife down on the counter, then turns so Louis has him pressed against the counter but they’re face to face. “It’s just… you make me feel like shit like nobody else can.”

“Oh, brilliant,” Louis says lowly, but Harry presses a hand to his chest quickly.

“Not what I meant,” he sighs, thumbing over Louis’s nipple and making him squirm. “I mean it, like, if you’re mad at me then I automatically feel a hundred times more guilty. I’ve been feeling like shit about this for bloody months.”

“Well, then why didn’t you say?” Louis asks incredulously. “We could have solved this ages ago.”

“Because I’m stubborn and you’re a dickhead,” Harry says pointedly, eyebrows raised.

Louis tuts. “Fair enough,” he says, clicking his tongue. “Right, enough of this feeling sorry for yourself bollocks. Kiss me, please.”

Harry’s eyes are rolling even as he moves in to kiss Louis, and Louis smiles into it as he presses Harry even harder against the counter (though he is mindful of the boiling hot pie). It’s unhurried and a little sloppy, but they’re both acutely aware that Zayn is in the next room.

Speaking of Zayn…

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, I don’t need to see you do that,” Zayn shouts, standing in the doorway and covering his eyes dramatically. “I don’t deserve this. My heart is broken. You guys are fucks.”

“Sorry, babe,” Louis giggles, then he slides his arms down from Harry’s neck obediently. “I’ll get you some wine to make up for it.”

“You fucking better,” Zayn says, but his tone has softened. “Although, well… oh, Merlin, you two wouldn’t be you if you weren’t snogging up against every available surface and that’s what I’ve missed, you know? Normality and stuff.

Louis snorts. “Good to know that me and Harry are only being normal if we’re being gross.”

Zayn pretends to cuff him upside the head. “Yes, you are, you goblins.” He takes the glass of wine that Harry offers him and takes a long chug, then leans against the opposite counter. “Smells fucking beautiful, Haz.”

“I hope so,” Harry grins, then he launches into a long, complex description about why this is a very unique pie recipe and why this pastry will surpass any other that either of them have ever tasted.

Louis beams as Zayn throws his head back in a laugh at something he says, and he realises how long it’s been since he’s heard Zayn laugh at all. It’s such a lovely, welcome change from the Zayn he had in his lap not half an hour ago. It almost feels like a throwback to before it all happened, when Zayn and Liam could come over and relax and Harry would cook and they would feel incredibly domestic and almost like put-together adults who do adult things in their spare time. Liam’s absence is missed, but Louis is quite literally ready to tear his dick off for making Zayn cry like that, so it’s probably for the best that nobody mentions that.

Instead, he winds his arm around Zayn’s waist, takes a sip of his own wine, and watches with unbearable fond as his fiancé and his best mate exchange green bean related banter. It’s progress.

*

“So we’ve got that all sorted, then all we really need to focus on is the catering and robes,” Harry explains, then pops another bite of mince pie into his mouth. A crumb clings to his chin and Louis carefully thumbs it away, then helps himself to another one. They’re absolutely scrumptious, and even though they’ve got a huge Christmas dinner coming in an hour, he can’t seem to stop himself.

“That’s so good,” Anne beams. The Bucks Fizz has been flowing freely all day, and she looks a little bit tipsy, bless her. “I’m so pleased you boys have come through all this as well as you have. And I’m so proud of you for planning another wedding so soon.”

“To be fair, most of the planning was already done,” Louis chips in, squeezing Harry’s knee. “This one is so organised with it all, he’s truly a gift.” He beams at Harry, who grins back and darts forward to kiss his cheek. “But yeah, we’ve got another appointment at Madam Malkin’s – I think on the third of January? Yeah, then we’re pretty much all set, as Harry said, apart from the menu.”

“But that same week we’ve got another meeting with the caterers, so hopefully we can get the menus posted to the guests by the second week of January, so everyone has a couple of weeks to decide what they wanna eat and get back to us,” Harry says, then sighs. “Merlin, it feels even more exhausting the second time around.”

“That’s because you were never meant to do it a second time,” Gemma says, smiling sadly. “Honestly, it’s such a shame the venue couldn’t hold you again. It was so beautiful the first time around.”

Louis pulls a face, and Harry clears his throat awkwardly. They share a brief glance before Louis laces their fingers, because this whole venue debate has been a bit of a conflict between them for a while.

The venue itself was more than happy for them to reschedule their wedding for a later date, and even offered them a discounted price. Louis was keen to accept, but Harry had put his foot down and had booked another venue without even telling Louis. It cost a fair bit more than Louis really wanted them to be paying, and him and Harry ended up having an explosive row over it.

Louis ended up accepting pretty quickly that Harry wasn’t going to back down, and when he started crying and hiccupping that he couldn’t get married in the place where he’d almost watched Louis die right in front of him, Louis has acquiesced that that was fair enough, he was sorry, and he’d held Harry for a long time afterwards. It hadn’t been a good evening, but they’d gotten through it. They always do.

“Yeah, a real shame,” Louis comments, and if either Anne or Gemma think the two of them are acting a little funny then neither of them mention it. “But this one is just as nice, and I even think the reception area is even better.” He pauses and lets Harry drop his hand and wind it over his shoulder. “I just wanna be married now though, you know?”

“I do know,” Anne says, nodding sadly. “My poor darlings. It’s been such a horrid few months for all of us.”

“We came out the other side though,” Louis says, shuffling as close to Harry as he can without actually climbing into his lap. Harry curls his arm a little tighter and rests his head against Louis’s. “I’m proud of us.”

“I’m proud of you too,” Anne says with a smile. “And it’s Christmas and I’m grateful I get it with my three most faves, even if we are missing one person.” She drains the rest of her glass and stands up before the other three can get a word in. “Right, I’m going to check the turkey.”

“Oh, bless her,” Gemma murmurs, biting her lip as she watches her mum hurry out the room. “Fuck, I wish more than anything he was here for her. He was so good for her.”

“I know,” Harry says lowly, sadly. He doesn’t loosen his grip on Louis. “I still feel awful about leaving her tomorrow.”

Gemma waves her hand. “I’ll stay if I have to, don’t worry.” She grins. “Can’t be disappointing all them littluns now, can you?”

Louis chuckles and shakes his head. “Bless them. I love them at Christmas so much, they’re always in the best mood. Although last year Daisy did nearly take Phoebe’s eye out with a plastic spatula from the fake kitchen set they got.”

“Muggle toys always sound so interesting,” Gemma sighs wistfully. “My fake kitchen had a very small fridge and a plastic pot that smelt like beef stew whenever you turned it on. But with Muggle ones you literally have to pretend with all of it.” She shakes her head disbelievingly. “It just sounds so fascinating.”

“Maybe you should marry a Muggle and not that flake of a fiancé you have now,” Harry says with disdain. Gemma scoffs and flips him off, eyes narrowing.

“Listen,” she titters. “Jamie has some faults, granted, but I love him. And if this year has taught me anything, it’s to cease love and hang onto it because you never know when it could be gone.” That leaves Harry with his mouth open and Louis clinging to his hand awkwardly, a sombre silence heavy in the air.

Until Gemma bursts out laughing.

“Your fucking faces,” she crows, slapping her thighs. “ _Honestly._ It really isn’t that deep, bless ya. I do love him though, a lot, so.” She shrugs. “Plus I’m already bitter my baby brother got married before me.”

“Not… not married yet,” Harry croaks, clearly a little taken aback still. Louis would laugh, but he knows that Harry feels pretty much exactly how Gemma summed up herself to be (and he knows to Harry that it _is_ that deep) so he keeps clinging to him. “Whatever. I’m going to help mum with the roast.”

“I’m kidding,” Gemma calls after Harry’s retreating frame. She giggles then turns to Louis, shaking her head fondly. “He’s such a giant softie, bless him.”

“He is,” Louis agrees. “It makes me nervous sometimes, you know, that he wears his heart right on his sleeve. That’s why I’m always holding his hand.”

He says it with such a serious tone that he surprises even himself, and him and Gemma burst out laughing again a second later.

“That was almost too sappy, wasn’t it?” he asks with a grimace.

“A little bit,” Gemma laughs. “But it’s my baby brother and I’m happy he’s happy, so you’re forgiven.”

She’s still teasing, Louis knows she is, but it feels like the sentence has a little bit more weight to it than that. She smiles at him, and they both stand up at the same time and move in for a hug, and Louis could cry because this is what he’s wanted for so long.

To be forgiven even though it wasn’t his fault. For Gemma to tell him that she’s okay with him being with her baby brother. For them to get on as they once had, despite the tragedy they’d faced together.

Louis clings to her and forces himself to blink back the tears that are threatening to spill. He blames the alcohol, and that it’s Christmas.

“It’s okay, Louis, it’s okay,” Gemma says gently, like she can tell he’s getting choked up. “You’re my brother too. You’re family.”

“Fuck,” Louis croaks. “Fucks, Gems, I…”

“Hey, Lou, do you wanna… oh _,_ ” Harry’s voice says from the doorway. “Okay, never mind. I’ll leave you two to it.”

Gemma squeezes him hard, then lets him go. “No, no, we’re coming through now. You can have him back.” She pats Louis’s cheek and then skips off towards the kitchen door. “Hey, Mum, have we got any more champers?”

Harry turns to watch her, then he moves back towards Louis, arms already outstretched for him as he ambles over. “Everything okay?” he mumbles.

“Yeah, everything’s great,” Louis reassures, resting his head on Harry’s chest and cuddling him in tight. “We, um, we’re good, I think.”

Harry smiles into his hair, and he feels it more than anything. It relaxes him and he lets himself be rocked a little, content just to hold and be held.

“Well, since it’s Christmas,” Harry says after a time, “and at Christmas you tell the truth, to me you are perfect and my wasted heart will love you until…”

“Oh, my god,” Louis groans, pushing Harry away then pulling him back in straight away. “You are not actually quoting Love Actually as we’re having a moment.”

Harry snorts one of his ugly laughs and kisses Louis instead. “I’m impressed you actually got the reference, babe.”

“Oh, please,” Louis scoffs. “I grew up in a house full of sappy Muggle women.”

“Boys,” Anne shouts through from the kitchen, “come and get ready to eat!”

“Just a minute,” Harry calls back, then turns back to Louis. “No, but in all seriousness, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Louis nods, smiling. “I’m perfect.” He bumps his hip into Harry’s. “Let’s go eat, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry repeats, mimicking Louis’s tone, then leans down to snog him messily. Louis laughs into it, kisses his lover breathless, then they trot hand in hand through to the kitchen and sit down to their feast.

*

Meanwhile, on the other side of London, Zayn is spending Christmas alone.

Well, not completely by himself. He wakes up alone in an empty flat, stays in bed and mopes for a good couple of hours, then Floos to Doniya and Waliyha’s shared apartment around lunchtime. He hadn’t bothered to shower or dress up, and the pair accepted him with open arms and tucked him onto the sofa with a huge plate of their Mum’s recipe spag bol while Miracle on 34th Street played on in the background.

“Darling,” Doniya asks, sitting in the armchair opposite with her own bowl of steaming pasta. “You look like shit.”

Zayn looks up and slurps at his spaghetti, not really caring that he’s getting meat sauce all over his chin. It’s only his sisters seeing him like this, after all. Nevertheless, he is a little offended. “Fuck you,” he says with as much fake cheeriness as he can muster. “I am fragile and also hungry.”

Doniya snorts. “It’s been four months, Zayn. He hasn’t bloody died. You’re being a tart.”

“Who says I’m sad because of Liam?” Zayn asks, then drops his eyes to his plate so he can’t see Doniya give him a _look._ “Maybe I’m just sick or something.”

“That is total bollocks,” Doniya scoffs. “Babe, look. You know I liked the boy but he’s not worth this. He’s not worth you making yourself actually sick over.”

“That’s not true,” Zayn protests weakly. “He’s worth…”

“No offence, Zayn, but I’m not gonna hear you put yourself down to the point of no return because you fucked up a couple of times,” Doniya says, her voice firm. Zayn has a feeling she’s had a long talk with their mother about this, but he doesn’t say that out loud. “Yeah, what you did wasn’t so great, we can all admit that. But you’re running yourself into the ground here. You used to love life and now? Godric, Zayn, I’ve never seen you like this. You’re not my _Bhaiya_ when you’re like this.”

Zayn presses his fork into a piece of mushroom, hard enough so it starts to separate and turn to mush between the prongs. He sighs. “I know,” he mumbles eventually, quiet enough that Doniya might not have even heard him. “I know, _Baji,”_ he groans, because nobody can make him feel as guilty as his sister does. 

“If you know, why are you still holed up in that godforsaken flat of yours sleeping in four month old sheets?” Doniya says, crossing her arms across her chest and glaring. “It’s bordering on… no, actually, it surpassed pathetic a while ago but I wanted you to realise that on your own.”

“Blithering banshees, Doni, why don’t you tell me how you really feel?” Zayn says incredulously. “It’s fucking Christmas, fucking hell. You could have at least waited until Boxing Day.”

“No, I couldn’t, because by then you’ll be home and back in those disgusting bed sheets,” Doniya scowls. She frowns. “Look, Zayn, I don’t want to have a go at you…”

“Bullshit,” Zayn retorts.

“Shut _up,_ ” she snaps. “Listen to me. I need you to start caring about yourself because, for Merlin’s sake, you are nearly twenty-four and you need a bit of self-preservation back in your life.”

Zayn groans. “I’m just tired, Doni,” he says blearily. “I thought this feeling would have faded months ago, but it just isn’t. I… I don’t know how to not just go through the motions and carry on that way.”

“Well, then you start from the beginning,” Doniya says simply. Zayn is a little bit resentful that she’s acting like it’s so easy. “You change those foul bed sheets and burn them. You throw away any of his stuff that’s still in your flat because he probably doesn’t want or need it anymore and you’re just clinging. You cut your hair, you go out on the pull, you have sex…”

Zayn splutters into his pasta. “ _Doniya._ ”

“What?” she asks, throwing her hands into the air and nearly losing her own dinner in the process. “We all have sex. Sex is perfectly natural. I mean, come on, me and Wali both have boyfriends, did you really think…”

“That is so much more than enough,” Zayn moans. “I get it, okay? I need to pull.”

“Treat yourself to some new clothes. Get some more stupid tattoos. Make Louis do something really fucking reckless with you,” Doniya carries on, ticking things off on her fingers. “Go on holiday if you need to.”

“Are you paying for all this?” questions Zayn. “Because this self-preservation thing is starting to sound awfully expensive.”

“Like you don’t make more money than Baba working in that fancy office of yours,” Doniya says with an eye roll. “Look, Zayn, it’s up to you what you do, really, but it needs to be done, babes. I just want you to be okay, that’s all. I hate that he made you this sad.”

“Yeah, but the thing is, I probably made him sadder,” Zayn says miserably.

“He’s not my brother though,” Doniya shrugs. “Just give it some thought, sweetheart.” She leans down to put her bowl on the floor and then she leaves the room, coming back a few seconds later with a giftbag in her hand. “These are for you.”

Zayn furrows his brows and lets out a little fond laugh. “We already did presents, you turd.”

She tuts and drops it down at his feet. “Self-preservation,” she calls over her shoulder as she wanders into the kitchen. “I’m getting Yule Log, do you want some?”

“Please,” Zayn says loudly, then sets his tray on the coffee table and reaches for the bag. He has a pretty good idea what it is before he’s even pulled the wrapping paper off, and he chuckles to himself as he unwraps a brand new set of silky, navy coloured sheets.

He supposes Doniya does have a point.

The next morning, he Floos home after a big brunch of pancakes and ice cream, promising Doniya that he’ll take on board everything she says. And he fully plans to. Niall has gone up to visit Jade’s family for Boxing Day, so he opens all the curtains and gives the flat a bit of light, then cranks up some music on his old record player, gets a binbag from the kitchen, and gets to work.

He throws away the picture of him and Liam that he used to keep on his bedside table. He throws away Liam’s big grey hoodie that he didn’t seem to want to take back, probably because Zayn was the one who had been wearing it pretty much exclusively since they started sleeping together. He throws away the notes and the red velvet cupcake box and the shampoos and conditioners and the cat toys and everything he can find that reminds him even vaguely of their time together.

He moves onto his wardrobe next. He chucks out everything he doesn’t wear, vowing to have a look around some of the sales tomorrow for some new pieces. He comes back the next day laden with bags, not just with clothes but with aftershave, toiletries, and razors.

That night he clips his hair off, and the next day he goes to a tattoo shop but he doesn’t get a tattoo like he’s planning to. Instead he gets his nose pierced, and while he’s convinced that the little fucker hurt more than a tattoo would have, he has to admit it looks _sick_.

He goes home to clean it, then Floos over to Harry and Louis’s for an Indian takeaway as planned. He drops down the chimney and dusts himself down, only to hear a glass drop from somewhere behind him.

“Er, Haz?” Louis yells, but his eyes never leave Zayn, scanning him up and down. “Some kind of supermodel has just dropped through our Floo Network.”

 “Excuse me?” Harry’s voice says, then Zayn hears him thump down the stairs. “Did the Network fuck up again like it did once with Gemma- ahh, fucking hell, _Zayn_?”

Zayn runs a nervous hand over his stubbly head, his thick brows furrowed self-consciously. “Do… do you not like it?”

“Not like it?” Louis blurts incredulously, then licks his lips. Zayn flushes. “Zayn, fuck, you look fucking gorgeous.”

“Yeah, you do,” Harry says, but he steps a little closer to Louis and presses a hand onto the small of his back a little too obviously for it not to mean anything. Not that it lasts.

“Watch the glass,” Louis hisses, shoving him away. “You’ve got no shoes on.”

“Neither have you,” Harry says with a pout, then he sighs. “Zayn, have you got your wand on you?”

“Yeah, course,” Zayn says, then crouches down and holds his wand out. “ _Scourgify._ ”

The glass rises off the floor a few inches and then floats towards the kitchen bin. Harry offers him a tight-lipped but seemingly grateful smile then steps right back into Louis’s space. “Thanks.”

“You’re being weird,” Louis says, turning to him. “Why are you being weird?”

Harry’s bottom lip juts out even further. “I… because… I’m not, Louis, shut up.”

Zayn snorts and Louis rolls his eyes. “Oh baby, are you jealous because I called Zayn gorgeous?”

“Shut up,” Harry whines. “No, I am not.” There’s a pause, and then, “okay, maybe a little. But he is gorgeous, look at him. Fuck’s sake.”

Zayn can’t help but laugh loudly at that, watching Harry stamp his feet like a disgruntled toddler. He makes eye contact with Louis, and he’s only able to hold it for a couple of seconds before they’re both in hysterics; the kind of ugly, snorting laugh that Zayn used to laugh every single day. He slaps at his thighs and shakes his head, and then laughs even harder when Harry lets out an indignant wail and tries to leave the room.

Louis snags his wrist before he goes and wraps an arm around his waist, then pats his cheek. “Are you jealous, my little angel? Of _Zayn?_ ”

“No,” Harry snuffles. There’s a pause. “Yes.”

Louis laughs again and smushes his face into Harry’s chest, giggling happily. “Bless, babe, bless. Nope, I’m afraid you’re stuck with my sorry arse.”

“But what an incredible arse it is,” Zayn grins, eyes full of mirth. Harry scowls.

“That’s _my_ arse, get away,” he frowns. Louis laughs even harder and wiggles it, and then  starts to cackle when Harry grabs it possessively.

“I’m taking the piss,” Zayn says, waving his hands at them both. “But anyway, do you… do you guys like it?”

“You look great,” Harry says earnestly. “I really love that hair on you. Makes you look a lot older, you know.”

“The nose stud is really doing things to me,” Louis says in a really faux-sultry voice, then howls as Harry scrunches his nose up angrily and squeezes at his hips possessively. “Fucking _hell,_ chill out.”

“Merlin, Harry, all I did was shave my head,” Zayn tuts. He grins. “I’m glad you like it though. It feels really fucking good to have a change.”

“What did change?” Louis asks, settling himself in front of Harry with long arms wrapped around his shoulders. “Last time we saw you you were wearing those fucking awful joggers with all the chocolate stains on them still, and now you look like some kind of runway model.”

Zayn shrugs. “Doniya helped a lot,” he admits. “We had a bit of a chat and she basically called me pathetic and reminded me that nobody is worth my health or sanity, so.” He shrugs again. “I mean, I know it’s what all you guys have been telling me for months but I dunno, I feel like I needed to hear it from her more.”

“So did you finally open your windows and change your sheets?” Louis says, voice a gentle teasing tone.

Zayn snorts. “Yeah. And I threw out half my old wardrobe, and loads of the stuff that reminded me of him, or anything that was his, really. My room is a little barer but it’s, like, it’s a room again, at least.”

“I’m so proud,” Louis smiles happily. “God, Zee, it’s been so long, bro. I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too,” Zayn replies, voice quiet. “It’s nice to, like, to feel more like I used to. You know, to focus on me and not another person all the time. I have missed doing that.”

“Atta boy,” Louis beams. “Now let’s get this curry ordered, shall we?”

Harry goes into the other room to grab Louis’s Muggle phone, and when he gets back he finds the pair pretending to snog against the counter, but the farce breaks after all of two seconds because Zayn can’t stop laughing. In retaliation, Harry doesn’t order Louis any saag aloo and the pair squabble and bicker and only stop doing so when Zayn asks them about the wedding.

Zayn ends up staying until just past two in the morning, and when he Floos back home he finds Niall and Jade curled up on the sofa. Jade’s asleep with her head on Niall’s chest, and he’s watching the TV with the volume on low. He snaps it off when he sees Zayn walk into the living room and goes to wake Jade, but Zayn waves a hand to stop him.

“Hey,” he whispers. He hasn’t actually seen Niall since before Christmas, so the hair and nose stud are new to him as well. “How was your Christmas, Ni?”

“Really nice,” Niall says lowly. “Fuckin’ Nora, Zayny, you look…”

Zayn runs a hand over his head without realising he’s doing it. He hopes this doesn’t become a nervous habit every time someone asks him about his new look. “Do you like it?” he asks anyway.

“You look sick,” Niall murmurs approvingly. “If I was into guys, you know, I’d probably be into you.”

“It’s a good thing your girlfriend is asleep then,” Zayn laughs quietly. “I dunno, I just fancied a bit of a change, that’s all.”

“You don’t have to justify it to me, bro,” Niall says with a smile. “I’m just happy to see you in clothes for a change, even in the middle of the night.”

“Ha,” is all Zayn can manage, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, I, um, I have been a bit of a mess. I mean, he didn’t die or anything, did he?”

Niall presses his lips together and nods, and Zayn is a little glad he’s not saying anything. He unwinds the scarf from his neck and kicks off his shoes, then leans back against the arm of the sofa.

“So my new year’s resolutions,” he says, and he hears Niall chuckle. “Get over Liam, wear clothes in the daytime, smoke less.”

Niall snorts. “Fifty galleons says you’ll fail the smoking one within half a day.”

“Probably,” Zayn grins. “But hey ho, a boy can dream.”

They fall into an easy silence after that, and Niall snaps the TV back on so they can watch some late night comedy. Between Jade’s soft snuffles, Niall laughing too loud and then catching himself, and the comforting familiarity of his flat that he hasn’t actually felt in far too long, Zayn feels a little happier. He feels a lot more like himself and he intends to keep it that way, so he settles back against the pillows and laughs stupidly at the inane show they’re watching, and carries on in a way he hasn’t let himself in a long, long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to send me character asks if you have any plot questions or any general curiosities on my tumblr!!


	10. Sonorus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, guys, sorry about the late posting (again)!! I added an epilogue because I couldn't let this story go, but now it's complete and ready and I hope you enjoy!

Unfortunately the Christmas break can’t last forever. What’s even more unfortunate, at least for both Zayn and Louis, is that the trial of Agrippa Smyth is set to take place on the sixteenth of January. If convicted, the man will face up to twelve life sentences in Azkaban, and if they can convince his brother George to speak up against him, then his sentence could be reduced to only three life sentences.

The idea of being in Azkaban for the rest of your life makes Louis feel sick, and in the days leading up to the trial he gets more and more nervous in a way he’s not expecting. It’s not like he even saw him on the day of the wedding, and logically he knows he’s going to be completely safe when he’s in the Ministry, but he can’t help but cling to Harry or Zayn a little more whenever the trial is bought up in conversation.

It doesn’t help that Harry doesn’t want him to go either, and he keeps telling Louis that he doesn’t have to do this if he doesn’t want to, that Zayn and Harry Potter and Ron Weasley are all going to handle it and Louis doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to. This is a lie, however, because what Louis wants more than anything right now (apart from that ring on his finger) is closure. He needs Agrippa to confess, he needs to know that Agrippa knows what he’s done, and he wants to be there when he’s put away for a very, _very_ long time.

Since they have enough evidence to convict Agrippa provisionally, Minister Lovegood grants them permission to use Veritaserum to extract as much information from him as they can. In her statement to the Prophet she claims it’s because she ‘believes the families of the victims deserve as much closure as we can get for them’ but Louis, Zayn, and Harry Potter all know that it’s because there are still so many dead ends in the case that they need all the help they can get in closing them off.

However, on the day of the actual trial, there’s a stumbling block. Agrippa refuses to allow any Muggleborns in the room, and then threatens to take his own life before he can talk. Although he’s kind of relieved, there’s a bigger part of Louis that takes offence to this, almost, and the news hits him a bit like a punch to the gut.

“Surely once we’ve got him strapped down and he’s taken the Veritaserum there isn’t much he can do about a Muggleborn being in the room,” he says, arms folded against his chest. He’d come into the office especially for this, and he was wearing a suit and everything. The fabric feels heavy and itchy against his skin, and the way everyone keeps treating him like he’s fragile is only making it worse. “We own his ass now. He can’t escape and he can’t refuse this kind of thing, can he?”

Harry Potter pulls a face. “Well, he refused a lawyer, didn’t he? And technically, legally, yes he can. He’s still human, even as far as he seems from it, and he has the right to keep some things on his terms. We need to negotiate these types of things with him or else we risk gaining nothing at all.”

“If Louis’s not allowed in the room then I’m not going either,” Zayn huffs from his other side. “I don’t want to face that bastard again, and I want to do it even less so knowing he won’t even face Louis after what he did.”

“I don’t think it’s about him not wanting to face him,” Harry Potter says. “I think it’s about him trying to show us he still has an upper hand of sorts. And that his views haven’t changed just because we’re going to have him incarcerated.”

“Well, obviously,” Louis scoffs. “Your views have gotta be pretty fucking important to you if you’re going to go around killing people for them.”

“You know what I mean, Louis,” Harry Potter sighs sadly. “I just think we need to adhere to his request.” He clasps Louis on the shoulder. “And in a way, that’s a good thing for you, right? You don’t have to see him again.”

“I didn’t see him in the first place,” Louis says through gritted teeth. “I was too busy foaming at the mouth and dying in my boyfriend’s arms.”

“Louis…” Harry Potter groans, his head lolling back in frustration. “Louis, mate, we are on your side here.”

“I know, I know,” Louis moans, shaking his head. “I’m just pissed, you know? I proper had to psych myself up for today and now it’s like…”

“I know,” Harry Potter echoes, squeezing his shoulder a little through his thick blazer. “I wish you could come in too. I think it would do you the world of good.”

Zayn snaps his fingers suddenly. “Hey. Why don’t you store it in a Pensieve for us? That way we can both be there – well, kind of – and we can also scream and shout a bit, and even leave if we want to.”

 “That’s… actually not a bad idea,” Harry Potter muses, scratching a little at his chin. “Yeah, yeah, we can do that. Louis, how does that sound?”

“Better, I guess,” Louis mumbles. He isn’t lying; he thinks he’d definitely be more comfortable watching it back rather than being in a room where Agrippa could leer and make snide remarks, even from behind the stand and in shackles. “Fuck, yeah, no, okay, let’s do this. Let’s do it that way?”

“Yeah,” Harry Potter questions. “You’re definitely okay with that?”

“Yeah,” Louis affirms. “Until then, I’m… I think I’d rather go home than stay here and wait it out, if that’s okay.”

“Absolutely,” Harry Potter nods. “Understood completely. We’re gonna be here a while, so I was gonna send you home anyway.”

“Thanks,” Louis says with a tight smile. “See you in a couple of days then, I guess?”

Harry Potter nods again. “We’ll send you an Owl when we’re ready for you to come in,” he promises. “In the meantime, don’t stress too much about it, yeah? We’ve got him, it’s just about how much closure we can get out of him now.”

“I know,” Louis mutters. “I just… I will worry because I’m worried for Harry, you know? The whole Robin thing…”

“We’ll take care of it,” Harry Potter says earnestly, clapping Louis on the shoulder again. He gestures behind them. “Use our fireplace, yeah?”

Louis nods forlornly and mutters his goodbyes, then lets Zayn move him towards the fireplace. He hugs his best mate tightly before he goes, then Floos home and immediately tumbles towards the sofa, tucking his knees up under his chin and taking several deep breaths to calm himself.

He smokes an unhealthy amount of cigarettes once he finds himself able to stand, then paces the flat until Harry gets home from his shift. As soon as the lad’s in sight Louis barrels into his arms and clings to him, wanting to be little and coddled and protected from the big wide world again. There are some things that just don’t come easy, and dealing head on with the guy who tried to kill you is one of them.

“Lou, _Louis,_ ” Harry coos, wrapping him up in his arms even though Louis realises belatedly they’re laden with shopping bags. “Hey, _hey,_ sweet boy, what happened? Was it bad? Did you have to walk out?”

Louis shakes his head into Harry’s chest, relishing being close to him even though he clearly has another hundred questions and he smells like hospital. “Hold me,” is what he ends up choking out, and Harry obediently drops all the bags and cradles him even tighter, kissing the top of his head over and over until it’s dark outside and the shaking in Louis’s hands is somewhat under control.

The Owl from Harry Potter comes three days later, and Louis feels like he’s being a giant baby but he brings his  Harry into the office with him for moral support. He’s well aware he won’t be able to bring him inside the Pensieve with him, but just having a hand to hold before and after makes the whole thing seem a lot less daunting.

The first thing Louis notices is that the office is freezing. The second thing Louis notices is that Harry Potter looks like he’s had absolutely no sleep, if the bags under his eyes and the twenty or so empty coffee mugs on the table are anything to go by.

Zayn arrives about twenty minutes after him. The Pensieve is in the middle of the room, and while Louis hasn’t ever actually seen one before, he’s pretty sure Zayn has one in his flat (that hasn’t actually been used because he bought it for Liam, unfortunately). Nevertheless, Zayn seems just as confused as Louis when the trunk is opened and the blast of cold air that hits them makes tears prick the back of his eyes. He instinctively takes a step back and nearly trips over Harry’s foot.

Harry Potter lets out a long sigh from where he’s standing to Louis’s left. “So as per both your requests, I managed to store it all in this Pensieve for you. I dunno, I mean it’s a bit heavy going, but I think you were both expecting that, weren’t you? And I hope it’s the closure you both want. _Need_. Especially for you, Louis.”

Louis nods and doesn’t let go of his Harry’s hand. “It’s a straight-up confession then?”

“Pretty much exactly that,” Harry Potter says. “He was pretty proud of himself, which was rather disgusting, but he confessed to plotting and committing the murders that took place on English soil.” He pulls a face. “Including that of Robin Twist, I’m afraid. I’m extremely sorry.”

Harry Styles lets out a sad sigh and Louis turns to him, dropping his hand so he can wrap both his arms around him. Harry moves into him easily, tucking his face into Louis’s neck and nodding weakly. With Harry pressed into him, Louis makes the effort to catch Harry Potter’s eye over his shoulder, where he shoots him an apologetic look, but Harry Potter just nods and turns to Zayn, letting the couple have their moment.

Louis now turns his full attention to Harry, pressing a gentle kiss into the warm skin of his neck. Harry lets out a sad hum and snuffles softly into Louis’s top, then after taking a deep breath he slowly pulls back and shakes his head.

“Harry, babe?” Louis asks concernedly. “Hey. Are you okay, little love?”

“Yeah,” Harry mumbles, and tucks a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “Yeah, it’s just… you know, hearing it like that. That was… weird. And hard.”

“I know, darling, I know,” Louis says, and he stretches up to kiss him briefly. “You handled it so well though, I’m so proud.”

Harry nods vaguely, dabbing at his eyes with the cuff of his sleeve. He lets go of Louis but keeps close to his side, and Louis slides their fingers together once more before he clears his throat.

“Sorry, we just needed a minute,” he says softly once Zayn and Harry Potter have turned back to face him. “You were saying, Harry?”

Harry Potter claps Zayn on the shoulder, and Louis makes a mental note to ask him if they were talking about anything of importance later. “Yeah, right. Um, so I was saying that he’s confessed, and he filled in a few of the gaps, but fucking hell, it was like pulling teeth. He was blunt as fuck, but he was also really, like, clever in how he worded his answers so it wasn’t always obvious what he was saying. Fucking wanker.”

“Are there still unanswered questions?” Louis asks, nibbling on his bottom lip.

Harry Potter sighs. “I mean, we still never really got the answer as to _why_ he did all this. His default answer is still that Muggleborns are impure and not fit to be Wizards, which just blows my mind. But I suppose there are just evil people in the world.”

“And it became almost like a family business as well,” Zayn adds. “It feels a bit like he was always going to end up a killer, what with how his father was.”

“Well, exactly,” Harry Potter murmurs. “Anyway, are you two ready to go in?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Louis groans. He gives Harry’s hand a quick squeeze then drops it, clearing his throat nervously. “What, um, what’s the protocol here?”

“Yeah, I’ve never used a Pensieve either,” Zayn says. “So you’re gonna need to guide both of us.”

“Have you not?” Harry Potter asks curiously. “I thought you bought one yourself when… oh, shit. Never mind, please ignore me. I haven’t slept.”

Zayn lets out a sad sigh. “I’d chuck it if it hadn’t cost me so much fucking money. Honestly, what a fucking thing to gain in a break up.”

“I’m sorry, Zayn,” Harry Potter says, pulling a face. “Really, I am. But if you’re serious about looking to sell it on, I might be able to find someone.”

“I’ll see,” Zayn says, and his voice is a little tight, too tight. Louis jumps in to change the subject.

“So, when we get in there, nobody can hear, see, or touch us, right?”

“Well, obviously, they’re just memories,” Harry Potter says, regarding Louis a little confusedly. “You can leave whenever you need to as well, you just need to wave your wand like this.” He demonstrates for them, and Louis and Zayn mimic him easily. “Zayn, if you’d like to press your wand against the top for a second – that’s it – now lean into the trunk really far and you’ll just go down.” He claps the both of them on the shoulders and presses his lips together. “You know you don’t have to do this, either of you. Nobody will think less of you and the whole team and the Ministry will understand.”

“Yeah, I know,” Louis says gently. “But this has a little more to it than trying to placate you, Harry.”

“A lot more,” Zayn says with a humourless laugh. “I think we’ll be alright, though. Won’t we, Lou?”

“I… yeah, we’ll be fine,” Louis says with a smile, then turns to Harry Styles when he makes an indignant sound. “Harry, I’ll be fine, babe. I will.”

“I just don’t want you to see him again,” Harry Styles mumbles. “I just…”

“Hey, sweetheart, I know. I do know. But I’ve gotta. For me and for you and your mum and…”

“Lou, just go in before I change my mind and physically stop the both of you,” Harry Styles whines. He’s twitchy, so Louis darts forward for a quick kiss, then he grabs Zayn’s hand.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Zayn echoes him. They both lean forward and immediately go whizzing down into this strange, cold tunnel of memories. It’s not a dissimilar sensation to the first few seconds of travelling by Floo Powder, and when they land it’s rather disorientating. It’s a bit like being inside one of those grainy Muggle Westerns his grandad was so fond of.

The courtroom itself is huge, and the seats are almost full. It’s loud and from what he can tell the trial hasn’t actually begun yet. He can see Harry Potter, Ron, Stan, Cher, and Jade in the second row, and to his left sits Minister Lovegood among many other important Wizards that Louis vaguely recognises but probably couldn’t name. From Harry’s memory he can feel that the atmosphere is heated and a little tense, but that could also just be how Louis’s feeling about the whole thing.

Louis isn’t sure if they can even take a seat on one of the eerie wooden seats. He reaches out to touch it and it actually makes him jump when his fingers do indeed hit cold wood and don’t sink through the back of it like he was half expecting. He tugs Zayn forward so he sits down next to him, then winds his arm through his so they’re pressed close and firm together. He tells himself it’s because it’s fucking freezing down here in Harry’s memory, but he knows he’s not kidding himself or Zayn.

Zayn is a great friend.

If he’s being honest, he’s never felt sicker in his life. Everything about this place is eerie and unnerving, and he hopes the trial starts soon because he wants to get back up to the real world – _his_ world – because he wants to stay where it’s light and warm and safe. He’s had enough of not feeling safe.

As if prompted by Louis’s silent wish, the courtroom does indeed spring into action as someone (Louis assumes the bailiff) announces, “all rise!” Everyone stands and there’s a lot of low murmurs and the rustlings of parchment before the door behind them swings open with a crash and a new voice barks, “the Ministry of Magic court of law is now in session. Judge Grimilda Sniffs presiding. Please be seated.”

Louis turns to look at Judge Sniffs. She’s a striking lady, almost painfully thin with a narrow nose and neck. She gestures to someone in the back, and Louis spins and then goes cold as he sees the ugly, gaunt face of the person he hates most in the world. He’s led through by two Aurors that Louis vaguely knew from his old office, and he’s got chains on his wrists and ankles so he has to stumble almost comically through the courtroom. It would probably be more comical if less people had ended up dead, Louis thinks bitterly.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” Judge Sniffs starts up in a rather nasal voice. “Calling the case of the Ministry of Magic versus Agrippa Christopher Smyth. Are you prepared on both sides?”

Another bloke and a lady – the defence and prosecution, Louis reckons – both murmur their agreement with a bow of their heads. Judge Sniffs nods and then stands.

“This case is rather shocking for each and every Witch and Wizard in this room,” she says crisply. “The Ministry has conducted multiple discussions regarding to what lengths we can go to to still make this a fair trial while also accepting that this man needs to be put behind the bars of Azkaban for the rest of his life. Therefore we have decided to forgo a jury and instead have the primary focus be on getting answers. Because while we believe everyone deserves a fair trial, Agrippa Smyth did not give his victims a fair anything. He is a killer not unlike someone we all want to forget…”

“Jesus Christ,” Louis mutters under his breath, and Zayn squeezes his arm a little tighter.

“…and as such, we will be treating him as he deserves to be treated, which is with little mercy and contempt.”

There’s a murmur of agreement from the majority of the crowd. “This is over before it’s even started really, isn’t it?” Zayn mutters. “This is… well. This is bloody horrible.”

Agrippa hasn’t even flinched at the judge’s words, and he’s staring straight ahead blankly. It hits Louis horribly hard that he probably doesn’t even feel remorse for what he’s done, and that he might even just view this whole situation an unfortunate stumbling block in his plans.

“It really is,” Louis agrees. “I want this to pick up the pace soon, though. I’m freaking out here.”

“Do you want to leave?” Zayn starts to ask, but Judge Sniffs drowns him out.

“Innocent until proven guilty is a phrase we take very seriously in the world of law, yet Mr. Smyth made no real move to have himself regarded as innocent.” She clears her throat. “So, it now comes to us to ask: Mr. Smyth, how do you plead to your charges of the murders of Evangeline Carter, Nafeesa Bhamra, Guy Carston, Amelia Butterworth, Ellis Dagworth-Jones, Robin Twist, Daniel Thornton, Jeffrey Amstell, the kidnapping of Liam Payne, the attempted murders of Liam Payne and Louis Tomlinson, and the repeated use of Curses forbidden under Wizard law?”

“Completely and utterly guilty,” Agrippa says with a vastly unpleasant smirk. “And you know what? I’d do it again.” He stands up, eyes glinting with something that makes Louis want to cry a little bit. “And there’s _more._ More you’ll never find.”

The outrage and yells caused by his words make Louis flinch and try to curl up even smaller. Agrippa drops back into his seat and tries to cross his arms, but he can’t because of his handcuffs, which for some reason makes Louis feel a little better. It’s awful though, because if there are more then they may never be solved, not if he’s going to be this cocky and vile all the way through. He’s actually pretty glad he wasn’t in the trial itself, because he doesn’t think he could deal with Agrippa’s eyes on him through this.

Judge Sniffs have to smack her gavel down for a good twenty seconds before people actually start to quieten down. She rises once the din has mostly died away, then gestures to someone to Louis and Zayn’s left.

“Would Mr. Longbottom like to step forward for us, please?”

Zayn gasps and Louis balks as he sees Neville Longbottom of all people move forward with a vial of something purple in his hands. He stands before the judge and bows his head. Zayn elbows Louis in the stomach.

“Lou, that’s the Veritaserum,” he tells him. He sounds more excited than Louis thought he would be. “Merlin, I didn’t know they’d give it to him so early on.”

Louis shrugs. “It doesn’t surprise me, if I’m honest. They want answers more than they want anything else.”

“True,” Zayn agrees. “Did you see the question sheet Harry was gonna bring in?”

“No,” Louis says. “Why, did you?” Zayn nods. “Does he ask the questions himself or is that what Neville is doing?”

“Nah, I think Neville is just administering it,” says Zayn. “I think the question asking will fall to Ron, maybe.”

“Makes sense,” Louis says. They turn back just in time to see Neville slip the needle into Agrippa’s arm and it makes him wince – but then again Louis isn’t surprised that Agrippa had to be forced to take it.

“We’ll just wait a few seconds,” Judge Sniffs announces. “Then the questions will be brought forward by Mr. Ronald Weasley from the Department of Extremely Difficult Cases, and then we will begin.”

Chatter starts up again as Ron straightens his tie then rises, moving forward to stand in front of the judge’s stand. He raises his right hand and promises himself to not aggravate the defendant, nor will he stray from the agreed questions approved by the judge, Minister Lovegood, himself and Harry Potter. Finally, Ron clears his throat and moves to stand in between Agrippa and the transcriber.

“State your full name,” he barks.

“Agrippa Christopher Smyth.”

“What is two plus two?”

“Four,” Agrippa answers, and he looks bored already.

“Why are they doing this?” Louis whispers to Zayn.

“Bloody hell, Lou, did you not read the trial brief?” Zayn asks. Louis shakes his head, not really willing to admit out loud that when he tried to he’d freaked out a little and hidden it under a stack of papers on their dining table. “Oh, okay, well, it’s pretty common practice in incidences like this to ask inane questions like make sure the Veritaserum is working and there’s no change outside of the ordinary to his demeanour.”

“Oh, right,” Louis says with a nod.

“Who is the Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?”

“Minerva McGonagall.”

“Who is Liam Payne in relationship to you?”

Louis feels Zayn tense, so he strokes a thumb gently over his balled up fist. “A childhood friend,” Agrippa drawls, “who made it easy for me to manipulate him into doing my exact bidding.”

“And how exactly did you manipulate Mr. Payne?” Ron continues.

“I would Curse him,” Agrippa says. “And then I would use his Ministry connections and his access privileges to grab hold of the poisons that I needed. It was easy peasy. The Ministry doesn’t exactly make it hard to get shit done around here.”

Ron, to his credit, doesn’t let himself flinch at the taunting. “Was it your intention to eventually frame Mr. Payne for the murders?”

“Liam was never going to take credit for all my hard work,” Agrippa scoffs. “It was just a ruse to throw you lot off the scent for a bit. And didn’t it work well?”

Ron ignores him. “You kidnapped Mr. Payne on the twenty-ninth of August last year using the Imperius Curse. You snuck into the wedding venue of the aforementioned Louis Tomlinson to Harry Styles and on that day, you made an attempt on both their lives, is that correct?”

Louis’s going to be sick. Zayn practically hauls him into his lap, wrapping around him like a protective vine of a best mate.

“No,” Agrippa says. “I never intended to kill Liam. Well, not until he was completely useless to me, but anyway. He probably wouldn’t have died that day. Now Tomlinson? Tomlinson, I couldn’t give less of a shit about. He deserves to die regardless, and I should have tried harder.”

“He can’t hurt you,” Zayn promises, repeating the words over and over into Louis’s neck as Agrippa barrels on about using a slow poison as a means to distract, but knowing that there was a good chance Louis could have died. Louis’s shaking with every word and he wants to leave _now,_ but he also knows he wants to stay. He needs to know how this ends.

“Harry Styles was always a good bloke,” Agrippa’s saying when he dares let himself tune back in. “It’s a shame he ended up with such Muggleborn scum for a partner. Same with Liam, really. He deserves better mates than that.”

Louis watches as Ron turns to look at Harry Potter, who’s gripping the metal bar in front of him so hard it looks almost painful. He must have known then that Louis was going to watch this, and even though it’s stuff they all needed to hear and have recorded, they’re all aware it doesn’t need to carry on. He’s never been more grateful to have Harry Potter on his side, that’s for sure. Harry makes the cutting gesture across his throat, then Ron turns back and clears his throat.

“Did you always intend to take eventual credit for the murders, or were you just going to continue until you got caught?” he asks next, mercifully changing the subject.

“Continue until I got caught, because that’s me taking credit for it,” Agrippa says with a horrible grin. “They’ll be someone to take over from me, I’m sure of it.”

Louis and Zayn gasp in perfect sync. “What the fuck?” Louis hisses. “Does that mean… has he got someone lined up to carry this on?”

“He can’t have,” Zayn murmurs lowly. “I don’t…”

“Do you have anyone immediately lined up to take over from your…?”

“Objection!” the defence lawyer calls, standing up. “We said no diverging from the question list.”

“Overruled,” Judge Sniffs says. “This is new and important information, and I think not answering it would be perverting the course of justice.”

“But Your Honour…”

“I said overruled,” Judge Sniffs snaps firmly. “Please ask the question again, Mr. Weasley.”

“Do you have anyone immediately lined up to take over from your previous streak of killings?” Ron grits out. Agrippa smirks and carefully readjusts his position before he answers.

“That is information that I don’t even know myself,” he says smugly.

“Tell the truth,” Ron barks, but all he gets is a shrug.

“I have to tell the truth, don’t I?” he says rather gleefully. “And the truth is, I’m not sure yet. But I’ll know soon.”

“Jesus shitting Christ,” Louis says, turning to Zayn and lacing their trembling fingers together even tighter. “I can’t do this again. I can’t sit there and try and solve another shitty set of shitty murders against Muggleborns, I can’t do it.”

“You won’t have to,” Zayn promises, but it sounds hollow. “He’s just doing it to frighten us, Lou. He’s not lying in saying he isn’t sure, because for all we know there could be someone who sees what he’s doing and carries it on. Copycat murders are a big thing, do you not remember what happened after You-Know-Who?”

“How do you know that though?” Louis says, voice strangled.

“Because Harry Potter said he didn’t give straight answers to try and open up more questions, but this…” Zayn waves his hand, “look, Lou, I’ve done a lot of research into Veritaserum, and it wouldn’t surprise me if Agrippa has too. It’s fairly simple to override it if you’re clever enough.”

“Merlin’s left bollock,” Louis curses. “Of course the fucker is bloody good at this. Of _course_ he’s researched how to be even more of a slug than he already is.” He groans. “So what happens now?”

“Have there been many more deaths that we don’t know about or have recorded?” Ron asks, turning back to his list of questions.

“More than I can remember, if I’m being honest,” Agrippa says. Louis gasps again.

“How many?” Ron asks angrily. “Count for me.”

“Objection!”

“Overruled!”

“Maybe ten in France and over sixty in England,” Agrippa says with such a nonchalant shrug that Louis almost gags. “I honestly couldn’t tell you. And I didn’t have the media to keep such well recorded tabs on them either. I don’t remember their names and I don’t care to try.”

“I hate him,” Louis spits, turning his head into Zayn’s shoulder. “I hate him so much.”

“I know, babe, I know,” Zayn says, tightening his hold around Louis’s waist. “He’s a fucking lowlife piece of filth and he just… _Godric,_ I wish he would stop smiling.”

“I don’t know if I can keep watching,” Louis mumbles. “Is that weak?”

“Who cares?” Zayn says, kissing his hair. “I don’t think you’re weak at all. The things he’s saying are just…” He cuts himself off and lets out an angry sound, like he’s not sure he’s got the words for this. Louis knows the feeling. “Do you wanna go?”

“Were you responsible for the majority?” Ron asks, cutting off Louis’s response. “We have evidence suggesting your father was involved, as well as your mother, brother, and sister.”

“Father was the mastermind, if you will,” Agrippa muses. “George and I carried out most of the hard work. Mother and Rowena carried out the research into the killings, but they cared for the family, making sure we had enough to keep up with our lifestyle while Father and I did most of the killings.”

“So it became a family run business?” Ron asks. Agrippa nods and mumbles a conformation. “Will you tell us why?”

“Why what?” Agrippa drawls. “Why I want them all gone? Why I felt the need to kill them? Why I think that they’re all scum of the earth?”

“Yes, that,” Ron repeats hotly, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Why are you so adamant that they all deserve to die?” His eyes scan over his list of questions and then he looks back up, the edge of nerves visible on his usually steely features. “Were they premeditated or did you choose your victims at random?”

“Mostly at random,” says Agrippa. “Except, of course, Ellis whatever the hell his last was, and that one connected to Tomlinson.” He shrugs. “I never bothered to learn his name either. It didn’t matter to me.”

“So… so you did it to get at us… I mean, at Mr. Tomlinson?”

“And you, dear Ronald,” Agrippa says, voice dripping with a sickly sweetness that makes Louis’s blood boil. “To get at your dear Muggle trash wife.”

“Don’t you dare mention her here,” Ron growls, eyes flashing with an anger that Louis hasn’t seen before. “You need to keep on topic.”

Agrippa shrugs. “You asked the question. I am only saying what I believe to be the truth. Muggleborns are scum, regardless of who they marry or what you all think they bring. They’re _scum_ and I don’t regret a single death _.”_

“Did you target Mr. Twist and Mr. Dagworth-Jones because you knew they were related to people working on the case?”

“With a little digging,” Agrippa replies. “The dirt connected to Tomlinson was easy to find, especially after his precious little Harry told me himself. Ellis was a little harder to get, but once I found him I knew I’d struck pure gold.”

“I want to leave,” Louis whimpers. “I can’t listen to this anymore. Can we leave?”

“Were you going to take it further?” Ron asks, which makes them both freeze. “Were you going to just kill more Muggleborns related to the team?”

Agrippa laughs, and it’s cold and hollow and horrible. “You think you were that important to me?” he asks dryly. “Nah, I wasn’t. I just wanted to teach the Styles’ a lesson for bringing a pathetic excuse of a partner into their family, both times. There was a time when my family would have been happy to call ourselves their friends, even, but not now. Filthy blood traitors.”

“Now,” Louis says hoarsely, barely able to find his voice. “I want to go now.”

“Definitely?” Zayn checks. Louis nods hurriedly so Zayn whips out his wand. “Okay, let’s go.”

He waves his wand, effectively cutting off Louis’s vision and shooting him upwards in a way that makes him feel even queasier. He braces himself for impact, but when they rise out of there he surprises himself when he lands on his feet. He blinks and sways, nearly losing his balance because he’s so disorientated, and he’s grateful when strong arms wrap around him pretty much instantly.

“It’s okay,” Harry’s mumbling into his hair, and just the sound of his voice is enough to make Louis let out a dry sob. “It was only a memory. You’re okay. He can’t hurt you. Nobody will ever hurt you again, do you hear me?”

“What a fucking dickhead,” Zayn says loudly. Louis doesn’t look at him, doesn’t even want to because he’s got his eyes closed, squeezed tightly shut because he feels like everything will be too much if he opens his eyes and sees everyone’s faces. He doesn’t want their pity, or sadness, or even their sympathy. He just wants to be free.

“Was it bad?” Harry asks gently. Louis nods a little, and Harry kisses the crown of his head. “Are you okay, darling?” Louis shakes his head and Harry grips on tighter. “Oh, Lou, _Lou._ ”

“He’s foul, absolutely foul,” Zayn’s saying loudly. “The way he just… _fuck,_ I can’t even… I’m soangry right now I can’t even speak.”

“Dare I ask how far in you made it?” Harry Potter questions. “Did you get past the bit where he said, um, said that stuff about, well, about Louis?”

“Yeah,” Zayn grunts. Harry’s arms tighten around Louis so much it almost hurts. “Fucking dickhead, how _dare_ he…”

“What did he say?” Harry mumbles, only quiet enough for Louis to pick up. “Can I know?”

Louis pauses, then lets out a long, shaky breath. “I don’t… I don’t want to talk about it,” he manages out finally. “I don’t want to remember it.”

Harry’s body is tense, mouth open against Louis’s forehead like he wants to ask more questions, but Louis doesn’t let him. Eventually he relaxes a little and mutters, “okay,” into the top of Louis’s head, and Louis nods into his chest, folds himself even tighter into Harry’s hold and stays there for a long time, probably too long given their location, and he doesn’t say anything for a little while so he can digest what’s just happened. And as he’s breathing in the wonderfully familiar scent of his fiancé, the smell he’s come to associate with safety, happiness, and home, he realises something. It hits him a bit like a Bludger, hard and unexpected, because he wanted nothing more than to be out of that memory, and now he is.

He stands there and he thinks about just how bright his future with Harry is going to be. He thinks about how gorgeous his house is, how wide his family spreads, how great his friends are, and just how bright his future is. He’s free, he’s perfect, and he can’t be hurt anymore. Agrippa is down there, nothing more than a memory, and he’s now locked away in Azkaban and will be for the rest of his miserable life. Louis is up here, in the arms of the love of his life, living the kind of life he thought only existed in romance novels and TV shows.

All that trial is now is a memory, nothing more. Louis, Zayn, and Harry Potter are the only ones who need to know how this trial affected him, and tomorrow they’ll all come into work. They’ll be a different case to solve, a different set of people to help, and ultimately it’ll be the start of a new chapter in their working lives. Obviously, they’re not just going to be able to forget this case, but it’s over with now, and they can move on. And knowing that even though Agrippa thinks and says some awful things, he can no longer act on them, is just such a weight off Louis’s shoulders that he can physically feel himself sagging in Harry’s arms as that realisation hits him.

And so in that moment, Louis Tomlinson vows to himself that once his paperwork is done, he will never ever darken his thoughts with anything to do with Agrippa Smyth ever again. It’s over. He’s done.

“I want ice cream,” he blurts, pulling back from Harry’s chest and looking up at him intensely. Harry’s brows are furrowed adorably, and Louis wants to kiss him right now and every day for the rest of his life. He _gets_ that privilege. He’s _good._ “I’m serious, don’t look at me like that. Let’s get out of here and go and get ice cream.”

“Ice cream in January?” Harry Potter asks incredulously. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Louis says, then throws his head back and laughs. “The biggest, most obnoxious ice cream sundae we can find in London. I want strawberry sauce and chopped nuts and banana slices and the whole works.” He keeps an arm around his Harry’s waist as he turns to the other two. “You’re both coming too, right?”

Harry Potter looks at Zayn, then to Harry Styles, but both of them just shrug and nod. “Ice cream in January it is,” he says, throwing his hands up in the air. “Let’s go.”

Louis moves to drag Harry out of there, Zayn and Harry Potter following closely behind them. The four of them, despite it being a rather odd collective, go to a Muggle restaurant and do indeed order the most obnoxious desserts on their menu, as well as four obnoxious fruity cocktails. The four of them eat and drink until it’s late evening, then Louis takes Harry home, kisses the taste of rum and cream from his lips, and makes love to him until it starts raining in the early hours of the morning.

His life is pretty bloody amazing, and he _won._ It’s over, but it’s also only the beginning.

*

It’s the morning of Louis’s second wedding, and he’s lost his fiancé _again._

“Zaaaaayn. Zayn. What the fuck? _Zayn,”_ he whines for the fiftieth time. Zayn ignores him. “Zayn, this is _bullshit._ I don’t deserve this.”

“Shut the fuck up,” is all Zayn says, then shoots him a wide, fake smile. “Sit still so I can do your hair.”

“I don’t care about my bloody hair,” Louis scowls, but they both know that’s a lie in itself. “I want to know who is hiding my fucking husband hostage.”

Zayn pulls back and glares at him. “Don’t even joke about that, Louis. Not today. You know as well as I do that nobody is holding him hostage, you bloody drama queen.”

“Then where is he?” Louis carries on petulantly. He just wants a _kiss_. _“_ Honestly, I can’t do this alone. Zayn? How am I meant to do this alone?”

“Ironically, the whole point of a wedding is that you don’t have to do it alone,” Zayn drawls. His tongue pokes out in concentration as he works to perfect Louis’s quiff, and Louis flicks it. “Oh, fuck off, you needy fucking…”

“Where is Harry?” Louis wails. He starts stamping his feet up and down against the hardwood floor, like he’s five and not actually twenty-five. “I want Harry.”

“You can have Harry for quite literally the rest of your life in about eighty-five minutes,” huffs Zayn impatiently. “Honestly, Lou – fuck, _stop –_ you are being a brat. I don’t care if it’s your wedding day, I will still fucking hit you.”

“Kinky,” Louis says with the upmost sarcasm, then he flops down against the loveseat, rolling over onto his back and scowling up at the ceiling. “I feel like I’m being conspired against.”

“ _Merlin,_ Lou, you are so fucking annoying,” Zayn snaps. “I’m only doing what your mother asked me to do. I regret ever saying yes to being your best man now. No, scratch that, I regret ever asking if you wanted to be my partner back in Transfiguration that one time.”

“Don’t be fucking rude,” Louis snaps back, and then, “wait. My mother’s in on this?”

“Yes, and I know better than to defy Jay… _Louis, get back here!”_

Louis’s already gone, cackling as he darts out the room and flipping Zayn off over his shoulder as he goes. He can hear Zayn shouting after him, calling him every single name under the sun, but he doesn’t much care. He just wants Harry, he just wants a fucking kiss and a cuddle before he goes down the aisle, and he just wants to know that his boy is fairing okay after last time.

He skids down the corridor to the lift and presses the button to signal it. Once he’s inside he finds himself hopping from toe to toe, silently cursing Harry for choosing such an absurd choice of shoe - crocodile skin brogues, _honestly._ Nevertheless, he’d very much like to chastise him face to face, so he urges the lift to go faster, and skips out eagerly once he’s reached the second floor.

He hears the chatter coming from his mum and Dan’s suite before he’s even halfway down the corridor, and he has to knock rather loudly to be heard. Phoebe eventually answers, looking absolutely adorable in her little red dress and white shoes, and she looks at him confusedly and doesn’t move to let him in.

“You’re not supposed to be down yet,” she says, folding her arms across her chest. “In fact, we’re not meant to see you for, like, almost another hour.”

“Louis Tomlinson,” his mother shrills from behind Phoebe. She steps into view and she too looks so lovely that all of Louis’s demanding resolve crumbles. Zayn has a point; you don’t often get to say no to what Jay Deakin wants, it being your wedding day be damned. Her hands are on her hips and she’s giving him a pointed, stern, very motherly look, but all Louis wants to do is give her a hug.

So that’s exactly what he does.

“Mummy,” he breathes, moving forward and folding himself into her arms. She lets out a defeated kind of sigh but she cuddles him in, pressing a tacky kiss onto his cheek. “Mummy, you look beautiful.”

He feels her soften against him, and she hums in that familiar way she always does when one of her children makes her smile. “So do you,” she replies after a second, then takes a deep breath and pulls back to cup his face. “But you’re still not supposed to be down here yet.”

“I need Harry,” he whines loudly, sagging a little dramatically in her hold. “I need to know he’s alright.”

She sighs and tuts at him, then pretends to clip him round the ear. “You are a devil,” she tells him. “Harry is fine, believe it or not. Christ, Lou, you’ve been separated for half a day.”

“Yeah, well, I’m needy and anxious,” Louis replies dryly. He pretends to stomp his foot against the floor and whines even louder. “I wanna see him. Why are you doing this to me?”

“I’m not doing anything,” she tells him haughtily. “This is mostly Harry’s doing, actually. And I think you’d probably be wise to follow your man’s wishes before he asks for a divorce before you’re even married, don’t you?”

“Me and Harry aren’t getting a divorce,” Louis scoffs. “We’re well past that. He loves me too much and I complete him.” He pauses. “Wait. What do you mean this is all Harry’s idea?”

Jay sighs and pats him on the cheek again. “Harry, bless that daft bugger’s heart, is a little paranoid and thinks he didn’t listen to his inner self enough last time.” She waves her hand dismissively. “Is that a wizard thing? Do you have an inner self you need to listen to because it can magically predict the future?”

“No,” Louis says flatly. “That is just a Harry thing.” He coughs. “So what did his inner self tell him this time?”

“That he didn’t keep with tradition and he had it ‘buggered from the start’,” Jay air-quotes. “Because you two saw each other the morning of the wedding or whatever, you ruined it for yourselves, basically.”

“I can’t believe I’m spending the rest of my life with this guy,” Louis mutters under his breath, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Is he… he’s being serious?”

“Absolutely,” says Jay. She’s also got a completely straight face, and Louis can only conclude that everyone he loves is completely barmy. “And I have to say, I kind of agree, Louis. Not about the whole ‘you buggered it from the start’ thing, but I think it’s nice to uphold a tradition like this, don’t you?”

“I’d like it more if he’d bloody said something,” Louis grumbles, then sighs. “Christ, okay. Styles gets his way again, who’d have thought?” He throws his hands up in the air and wails. “I just wanted a cuddle or something.”

“Aw, Lou, you’ve got me for that,” Zayn’s voice says from behind him, and when Louis turns he sees Zayn wearing possibly the fakest smile he’s ever seen. He instinctively makes the move to hide behind his mother, who doesn’t even flinch when he puts both his hands on her shoulders and peers out over the top of her head. “I’m so sorry, Jay. I tried to keep him restrained, I really did.”

“You did no such thing,” Louis pouts. “You just told me to shut up about a million times and then threatened to disown me as a best friend.”

Jay laughs and sighs at the same time. “I know, darling. I’m sorry I raised such a terror,” she says to Zayn. “Come on in, have some champers. Have you got everything you need from upstairs or do you need to go back up?”

Zayn shakes his head. “I figured he probably wouldn’t want to go back, so I bought everything. I’ve got…” He cuts off, then starts digging around in the pockets of his tailcoat for something. “Ah! I’ve got the something new and the something blue right here for you.”

Now that Louis thinks about it, Harry wanting to follow tradition to the letter shouldn’t surprise him. He’s been sorting their something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue since Christmas (Louis even has a silver sixpence in his shoe), and had insisted that it was only right that they get two each because neither of them was the bride.

As such, Louis now finds himself sliding on a bright, polished silver bangle and pocketing a neatly folded blue handkerchief, snorting as his mother coos and then wraps him up into another tight hug. He hugs her back just as hard, then straightens up so she can sort out any creases in her dress. She spends the next half an hour fussing about his tie, and his hair, and his shoes, and eventually he just has to move firmly out her way and instead goes to stand with Lottie, who just smirks and tops him up with champagne.

Eventually, the time comes for them to move towards the venue, and the butterflies in Louis’s stomach amplify from gentle fluttering to full-pelt beating of wings against all of his internal organs. He gulps as his entire family traipses out of the room before him, and he blindly reaches for Lottie with a shaking hand.

“Jesus, Louis, you look like you’re about to puke,” she says, reaching forward and gently stroking up and down his arms. “What’s the matter?”

“I can’t,” Louis hiccups, shaking his head wildly from side to side. “I can’t do it. He’s too good for me. He’s too good for me, and I’m going to vomit on his really expensive suit if I try and go through with this.”

“Fucking hell, Louis,” Zayn says from behind him through gritted teeth. “Stop talking shit and buck up. You were whining ten minutes ago about how you couldn’t wait to see him.”

“Yes, but _context,_ ” Louis hisses. Lottie and Zayn just continue to stare at him, both looking half baffled and half amused. “I don’t need the next time I see him to be when we’re about to fucking _marry,_ like. What the _fuck?_ We’re so young, I mean… I mean, I haven’t sowed my oats. He hasn’t sowed his. What if he resents me? What if we get a divorce? Oh my god, we’re gonna get a divorce, aren’t we? We’re going to be one of those childhood sweetheart couples who can’t stand each other by the time they’re thirty. He’s going to hate me if we go through with this, oh my _fuck,_ I’m going to be _resented_. Why am I so…?”

“Annoying?” Lottie finishes for him. Louis gulps and moves to run a hand through his hair out of habit, but Zayn slaps it away. “Dramatic? Thick?”

“Hey,” Louis says, affronted. “I’m freaking the fuck out, I can’t…”

“You can, you whiny git,” Zayn says, then pretends to yawn. Louis thinks this is very rude and reaches out to pinch him, but Zayn’s too quick. Clearly his nerves have affected his reflexes. “Who else are you ever going to marry?”

Louis swallows. “Nobody.”

“And can you imagine Harry marrying someone else?”

Louis bites down a possessive growl, but his jealousy must show on his face because both Zayn and Lottie burst out laughing. “Oh, fuck you,” he snaps. “Fine, you twats. I’m gonna marry him just so nobody else can.”

“That’s the spirit,” Zayn says cheerily, dropping an arm around Louis’s shoulders and practically dragging him towards the door. “Marry him so nobody else can. Harry is one lucky fella.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Louis mumbles, trying not to let his nerves bubble up to the surface again. He straightens his back and struts forward down the corridor to the huge ballroom where the ceremony is taking place (they both decided that an outdoor wedding in February was pushing it a bit). He then has to strut back when he realises he has no idea where he’s going.

“You’re an idiot,” Lottie tells him. “Where’s Mum?”

“Everyone’s taking their seats now,” Zayn says. “Maybe Harry’s already in there?”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Louis breathes, using Zayn’s shoulder to steady himself as he takes a huge, gulping breath. “I can’t be in the same room as _Harry._ That’s absurd. He can’t see me like this.”

“His tongue has literally been up your bum,” Zayn snaps, to which Lottie lets out an almost inhuman-sounding squeak of protest. “You’ve slept in the same bed for about seven years. You can fucking marry this boy, Louis, _Merlin._ ”

“But what if…”

“Louis Tomlinson, so help me God…” Lottie growls, then shoves him by the shoulders towards the door. “You better get in there and marry the love of your life because I’ll be fucking honest here, none of us are gonna have a love like you and him have, and I will fucking resent you forever if you freak out and fuck it up.”

“’m not gonna fuck it up,” Louis gripes. “We all fucking know I’m gonna marry him, don’t we? I love that stupid kid too much not to. I just need a moment, you know, to prepare.”

“You’ve had over a year to prepare, you drama queen,” Zayn sighs. “I’m tired of this. Move your fat arse into that room. I wanna show you something.”

Louis manages a vague noise of protest before Zayn is dragging him by the wrist through the back door and moving them behind the heavy curtains that have been hung up to separate groom from groom. Louis is entering from the right, and Harry from the left. Zayn manoeuvres him to the front, pausing just before where the fabric will part, then carefully opens it just enough for him and Louis to peer out of.

“Look,” Zayn murmurs softly. “Just look for a moment, Lou. I mean, not to get all sappy on you or anything, but I think you’ve just gotta get some perspective for a sec.”

Louis looks, and he sees, and he softens. He sees everyone that he loves in the same room, all dressed up to the nines and looking completely wonderful, and all because of him. They’re all talking softly among themselves, gesturing at the décor or, in his Mum’s case, already crying into her husband’s shoulder. He sees Mark - his real dad - with Daisy and Phoebe, making them giggle and laugh, and he feels a pang of something warm. Familiar. _Family._

And his friends who are here, of course. He sees his group – Niall, Jade, Stan, Leigh-Anne, Jesy, Jake, Cher, Sophia, Eleanor – everyone he utterly adores, and some whom he wouldn’t be friends with were it not for Harry. He spots Liam too, sitting alone a few rows back, and he’s not sure why the sight makes him feel as sad as he suddenly does, but it’s enough to make him gulp loudly and shake his head.

He spins and grabs Zayn by the shoulders, probably looking a little manic but not caring because what he’s about to say is just so _important._ “Zayn,” he breathes, juddering his shoulders a bit. Zayn hisses as one of Louis’s sharp little fingernails jab him in the collarbone, and he tries to move away, but Louis holds him firm. “Zayn. You need to promise me something, and so help me Merlin you can’t refuse, not on my wedding day.”

“Um… alright?” Zayn says, looking mightily confused. “What do you need, Lou?”

“I need you to talk to Liam today,” Louis says, and _fuck,_ Zayn’s gone rigid before the words are even all the way out of Louis’s mouth. “No, babe, listen to me please. It’s just… I can’t see you be in the same room and not speak. It goes against all my recent conditioning. And I’m sorry, but that boy should not have felt like he has to sit at the back on his own. He’s…”

“Louis,” Zayn cuts in, and his voice is wobbling slightly. Louis just prays he hasn’t gone too far. “Louis, I… I can’t do that. Not today, I mean… I get it, I do, and I fucking _want_ to talk to him, but that all depends too on whether he wants to talk to me and if he doesn’t I think I’ll just cry and I don’t need this today, Louis. It’s your day, not my drama.”

Louis looks at him a little desperately. “Consider this my wedding present?”

“I bought you a couple’s four day spa retreat, you ungrateful…”

“That’s for me _and_ Harry though,” Louis says quickly. “Your wedding present to _me,_ your bestest ever friend who you love so dearly, is sorting it out with the man you love.”

Zayn looks torn. “I… I dunno, Lou. Is here the best time? After having not seen him for months?”

“I have to say, you’re doing remarkably well staying level-headed about it,” Louis says, impressed. “But, I mean, I just want you to be happy, and he makes you so fucking happy and he’s here and it seems like, oh, I dunno, like…”

“I wonder how he’s doing,” Zayn says, chewing on his bottom lip. He doesn’t quite meet Louis’s eyes. “I’m not… I wonder who he hangs out with now, you know? And how he’s keeping.” He laughs a little sadly. “How the cat is.”

“Then ask him, babe,” Louis says, firm but gentle. “Talk to him. I’m not… I’m not asking you to straddle him in the middle of the reception, Christ. Just talk to him.”

Zayn worries his bottom lip between his teeth, and Louis’s a little nervous he’s going to make himself bleed ten seconds before the ceremony starts. “I… fine,” Zayn says eventually, and his voice sounds squeaky. Louis claps his hands and beams, but Zayn covers Louis’s hands with his own and gives him a stern look. “ _But_ I’m not going to force it, and I’m not going to carry on if he’s a dick or whatever."

“Absolutely,” Louis nods. “Understood.” He jumps and claps again. “Okay, good. Okay, we’re doing this. I’m getting married, and you’re getting your man back.”

“Louis…” Zayn starts, but then a bloke that Louis doesn’t recognise appears behind him and he nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Sorry to interrupt, but are you ready?” the man says with a smile. He looks like he might be the Officiate, and Louis mentally curses himself for letting Harry do literally all the planning (again). But he nods and smiles and the man claps him on the shoulder and cocks his head towards the curtains. “Wonderful. I’ll get the organist to start playing, and then we’ll get you both out there. Zayn, do you want to follow me?”

Zayn, who actually seems to know who this bloke is (the fucker), grins before he pulls Louis into a tight hug. “Best of luck,” he mumbles into his shoulder, and Louis clings back a little desperately. He meant it when he said he couldn’t do it alone. “I’ll be just out there, and yes, before you freak out I’ve got the rings.”

“Holy shit, the rings,” Louis breathes, because _he’d_ forgotten. God bless Zayn. “I’m going to make a terrible husband.”

“You’re going to make a great husband, shut up,” Zayn tells him. “Just maybe write more things down, you know?”

“Shut up,” Louis echoes, then hugs him again. “Ahhh, okay, let’s do this. Let’s marry Harry.”

“I love you,” Zayn says, and he looks a little like he might cry. Louis is _not_ going to cry first. “See you on the other side.”

“Jesus Christ, I’m getting married, not about to do something life-threatening,” Louis grumbles, but there’s no real heat behind it. “Go away and stop stalling.”

“You’ve changed your tune,” Zayn tuts, then gives him a gentle shove and moves between the curtains, leaving Louis on his own for a few seconds before a deafeningly loud organ starts up, making him jump once again.

“I hate Harry,” he moans to himself, but he’s completely, totally lying to himself. He’s smiling so wide his cheeks hurt, and once the curtains start to draw slowly and he gets a look at the boy on the other side of the room, he feels any doubts, insecurities, or panics fade away in a second.

Harry looks absolutely beautiful, that’s the only word Louis can think of. He’s wearing a dark navy suit with a white ruffled shirt and a pussy bow, and his hair is scraped up into a neat bun at the back of his head. Louis wants to touch him so much he almost aches with it, and it feels like forever before the guests all rise and he’s gestured forward.

Zayn and Perrie are stood either side of the podium. Perrie looks a picture in her new robes, and she’s already crying but she laughs and flips Louis off when they make eye contact. Zayn shakes his head fondly and shoots him a wink, but he has to admit he barely takes any of it in because all his attention goes straight to Harry once they’re close enough.

“Lou,” Harry says softly, folding both his hands together and pressing them to his mouth for a second before they reach each other and scrabble to take each other’s hands hurriedly. “Baby, I…”

“Harry,” Louis says back just as gently, because this is all for Harry’s ears only. “You look amazing, fuck. I’m so…”

“Don’t swear in a church, Lou,” Harry hiccups, but his answering grin tells Louis he really couldn’t care less. Louis is going to marry him _so good._ “That’s bad Muggle etiquette.”

“This isn’t even a church,” is all he can think to say, but then he’s interrupted by the celebrant.

“May we begin?”

“Yeah, ha, sorry,” Louis says, squeezing Harry’s hand. “Can I keep holding him?”

There’s a collective laugh through all the guests at that, but Harry laughs the hardest, mouth wide and snort ugly. Louis adores him. The celebrant, thankfully, just looks amused.

“You can do whatever you’d like, it’s your wedding ceremony,” he says, shrugging playfully. “But I imagine the two of you want to be married sooner rather than later.”

“Right, right, sorry,” Louis giggles. “Yes, I would really like that.”

“Then I can proudly announce that we are gathered here today to witness the union of these two individuals, Mr. Louis William Tomlinson, and Mr. Harry Edward Styles, in matrimony, on this, the twentieth day of February in the year two thousand and seventeen,” the celebrant announces loudly, then gives them both the brightest smile.

Louis has to admit he tenses up a little bit when the guests are questioned whether they know of any lawful impediment as to why he and Harry could not marry, but it goes off without a hitch. He can feel himself edging closer to tears all the way through, and he manages to staunch them right up until it comes to them reading their vows.

“Harry, do you want to repeat after me?” Harry nods and clutches a little tighter at Louis’s hands. Louis swings them a bit in answer, biting his lip nervously. “I, Harry Edward Styles…”

“I, Harry Edward Styles.”

“… take you, Louis William Tomlinson…”

“Take you, Louis William Tomlinson.”

“…to be no other than yourself.”

“To be no other than yourself,” Harry chokes out, then drops one of Louis’s hands to wipe at his eyes. “Sorry.”

“Loving what I know of you, trusting what I do not yet know, I will respect your integrity and have faith in your abiding love for me, through all our years, and in all that life may bring us."

Harry stammers out the words awfully clumsily, but they’re the sweetest words Louis has ever heard and by the end he’s a wreck. He’s not sure how he’s being so good at not yanking Harry into his arms and telling everyone else to leave them alone – which is all he wants to do right now - but then it’s his turn and he has to pull himself together as best he can so he can rasp his vows to Harry out.

“Repeat after me, Louis,” the celebrant says. “I, Louis William Tomlinson…”

“I, Louis William Tomlinson.”

“… take you, Harry Edward Styles…”

“Take you, Harry Edward Styles.”

“… as my husband, with your faults and your strengths, as I offer myself to you with my faults and my strengths.”

“As my husband, with your faults and your strengths, as I offer my perfect self to you,” Louis says, then dissolves into laughter as Harry looks briefly affronted and then just fond. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Let me start again.”

“I will help you when you need help, and turn to you when I need help. I choose you as the person with whom I will spend my life."

“I will help you when you need help, and turn to you when I need help. I choose you as the person with whom I will spend my life. Christ, I love you so much," Louis stammers out, finally letting the tears fall openly. “I love you, Harry Styles.”

“Love you too,” Harry mouths at him, and then he scrunches up his face in a weak attempt to stop his own tears.

“Zayn, do you have the rings?” the celebrant asks. Zayn nods and moves forward, digging around in his pocket as he goes. He’s got tear tracks on his face, fairly noticeable under the bright lights of the ballroom, and Louis can’t help but laugh. Zayn sticks his tongue out at him.

“Harry, repeat after me again: with this ring, I thee wed.”

“W-with this ring, I-I thee wed,” Harry hiccups, and he slides the simple band onto Louis’s ring finger. Louis glances between it and Harry’s weeping face, and he feels like he’s fucking soaring.

“Louis?” Louis nods hurriedly, eager to get that ring on Harry’s finger so he can finally, _finally_ call him his husband then kiss all over his stupid face. “With this ring, I thee wed.”

“With this ring, I thee wed,” Louis rushes out, but he slides the ring on slowly, delicately, marvelling the way it looks against Harry’s pale skin. He never ever wants to take it off. He looks up, and he grins, and he has to blink back more tears because at the moment he thinks he might burst into tears and not ever stop he’s that overcome with love for his boy.

“Then I’m very pleased to declare that I can now pronounce you two married,” the celebrant says, opening his arms wide. “Congratulations. You may now seal it with a kiss.”

Louis moves in quickly, quicker than it feels like he’s ever moved before. He cups Harry’s face in his hands and smashes their mouths together, clinging to his cheeks rather desperately. Harry’s hands find his hips and his fingers dig into them, like he can’t hold on to Louis tight enough. It’s a little painful, but not enough for Louis to break the kiss because he _gets it._ He doesn’t think he can ever been close enough to Harry, not even now they’re married and tangled together and officially a forever thing. He thinks the only way he’ll ever be close enough to Harry is if they develop a spell that allows them to literally merge their bodies together, but that might take a while and probably comes with a few complications.

_Merlin._ Being in love makes him think some rather ridiculous thoughts.

“Give it up for the newlyweds, Harry and Louis Styles-Tomlinson!”

“It’s Tomlinson-Styles,” they both turn to say in unison, and they end up painfully bumping noses in the process. Louis squawks and falls back on his heels, pouting and laughing as the rest of the room lets out cackles. Harry giggles and leans forward, pecking him lightly on the tip of his nose.

“Hey,” he says, moving forward to wrap Louis in his arms, tucking his face into Louis’s neck. His hot breath brushes over Louis’s ear and it makes him shiver a little. “We’re married, Louis. We’re _married._ ”

“Took long enough,” Louis grins. “Fuck, Harry, _fuck._ I love you, I love you so much…”

“Love you too,” Harry whispers, nudging his nose against Louis’s cheek, close enough to kiss him again. “I love you more than I know what to do about.”

“I love you, I love you, I fucking love…”

“I, um, I hate to break this up, but they need you to sign and make this all official and shit,” Zayn’s voice says into Louis’s ear. “Then you can run away for that quickie that I know Louis’s thinking about.”

“Piss off,” Louis says, pulling away from Harry’s warmth rather reluctantly. “Are you the witness?”

“Yeah, so’s Pez,” Zayn says. “Shouldn’t take more than ten minutes, come on.”

Thirteen minutes later, Louis is officially a Tomlinson-Styles on paper, by law, and forever. Harry kisses him against the table once they’re done, and then they both just cling to each other and have a good cry while everyone else mills about around then, heading off to the reception. Louis is keen to go, but he needs a few minutes with Harry first.

He feels on top of the world, heart racing at a million miles an hour, and he’s pretty sure his eyes are never going to stop leaking tears. He probably looks a mess too, but he makes his way through to the reception room with everyone else, Harry’s hand clasped firmly in his with the promise of a really lovely evening to come.

*

Louis takes back everything he ever said about Harry being an amazing wedding planner. Harry is a shit wedding planner, and also a terrible human being.

“You are the worst,” he tells him sternly, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You are the literal worst and I can’t believe I married you.”

“I didn’t know,” Harry whines desperately, shaking his arms around like a frustrated windmill. “I didn’t _think,_ Lou. I just gave them the old one without thinking.”

“Babe, I love you, but you did a bad thing,” Louis says. He reaches for him and strokes up and down Harry’s arms while he nibbles on his bottom lip, a little panicked. This is definitely going to end badly. “But that’s okay, I mean, we must have someone we can swap to the top table in his place.” He pauses. “A grandmother?”

“How can we pick a grandmother?” Harry crows loudly, then slumps, defeated. His head lulls back against the wall with a _thunk,_ so Louis pulls him away and into his arms again.

“You’re right, babe, we probably can’t,” he’s quick to say. “We can’t really pick one of my sisters either.”

“What’s going on?” a voice says, then a couple of seconds later Zayn’s head appears around the doorway, his eyes immediately going narrow in suspicion. “Are you two having an argument?”

“No,” Harry says, just as Louis blurts out, “yes.” They pause, glare at each other, then turn back to look at Zayn in perfect sync (even Louis can admit that sometimes they’re a little too married). “Okay, we’re having a small argument,” Harry admits. “But we – okay, _me –_ I, um, I did a silly thing.”

“What did you do?” Zayn asks, hands on hips. “Should I be worried? Should I start looking for a shovel or a vat of acid?”

“No, nothing like that,” Louis says slowly, wincing a little at how unsuspecting Zayn is. “But Harry maybe possibly put Liam right next to you on the top table again because he’s a bloody fucking idiot.”

“ _What?”_ Zayn shouts, eyes going wide in horror. “Haz, no, tell me this is a…”

“I’m sorry,” Harry pleads. “I wasn’t thinking, Zayn, I… I just handed the wedding folder pretty much exactly as it was to the new venue. I completely forgot about the seating plan because the guest list is almost identical, I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Shit,” Zayn hisses, tugging at his hair in panic. “Well, I can’t… I mean, that’s gonna be so awkward for the entire table, you guys. I mean, have _you_ even spoken to him?”

Louis grimaces and shakes his head. “I’ll be honest… no. But we got on well before, so, you know, why wouldn’t we now? I’ve always liked Liam?”

“You’re not fooling anyone,” Zayn frowns. He sags a little, and Harry pulls away from Louis to wrap his arms around his waist, which he sinks into gratefully. “Can you not swap his seat for someone else?”

“That’s what we were just discussing,” Louis mumbles. “We’re not sure.”

Harry snaps his fingers. “Hang on. What about Jade? She’s not on the top table, is she?”

Louis shakes his head slowly, because in all honesty he can’t remember either. “I don’t think she is,” he says. “But that could work.” He nods slowly, but it picks up as he gains a bit more confidence in his idea. “Yeah. _Yes._ That will work. That makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“I think so,” Harry nods. “I mean, I’ll be honest, I feel a bit bad doing this because he’s probably seen it by now and it might feel like a huge slap in the face, but as we’ve always said, you’ve been our friend for much longer and will always be our priority, you know?”

Zayn purses his lips, but he nods against Harry’s shoulder. “Thanks,” he mumbles, barely loud enough for Louis to hear. “I love you two bastards. Fuck. _Fuck._ ”

“Hey,” Louis says, then moves in to join the cuddle. “We love you too. It’s never easy being in the same room as your ex, we all get that, but especially if you’ve still got feelings for them. It sucks, babe, but you’re handling it proper well.”

“You don’t even have any exes, what do you know?” Zayn grumbles. “Fuck, okay, let’s do this. Let’s go and be nonchalant in front of the person I love.”

“Atta boy,” Louis says, then slaps him on the arse and kisses the indignant noise right off of Harry’s mouth. “Let’s go get drunk, yeah?”

*

Zayn never thought he would spend so much of his best friends’ wedding hiding in the men’s loos, but here we are.

His hands are shaking and he wishes he had a bottle of something strong and alcoholic between his fingers, but alas, he’s alone, sober, and freaking the fuck out. Because _Liam,_ fucking _Liam,_ just can’t let him be, and can’t let Zayn do things at his own pace. Bollocks.

If he was thinking more rationally, he’d probably be okay with Liam coming up to talk to him first, because that’s what he wanted for so long. But the idea of Liam even wanting to see him again, let alone speak to him, had seemed so foreign for so long that when it actually happened he’d buggered it up, made a complete tit of himself, and now he’s hiding in a bathroom stall until he’s absolutely got to return to the reception room.

Way to go, Malik. Way to go.

What he’s even less ready for, he discovers, is the main door to open tentatively and Liam to actually come in and corner him, but he supposes that life isn’t fair.

“Zayn?” Liam says, and it makes him jump so much that he knocks the toilet roll holder to the floor with an almighty crash. “ _Fuck,_ oh my Godric. Oh, um, Zayn? You’re in here, aren’t you? That’s you, isn’t it?” Zayn scrunches his face up and tries very hard not to breathe. “Zayn?” There’s a pause. “Unless… unless you’re not Zayn, in which case I’m sorry I made you jump like that. Well, I’m sorry if I made you jump even if you are Zayn. That’s… that’s a bit off topic. Zayn? It is you in there, isn’t it? Please?”

Zayn bites his lip and makes an unconscious, frustrated sound, then slaps a hand over his mouth once he realises what he’s done. Undeterred by Zayn’s idiocy, Liam carries on.

“Zayn, come on,” he says with a sigh. “We need to talk. Just for a few minutes. I mean, we can’t avoid each other forever, can we?”

“No,” Zayn moans eventually, reluctantly. His hands hover nervously over the lock, but he can’t bring himself to unlock it and look Liam in the eye just yet.

“No, as in we can’t avoid each other forever or no, as in we don’t need to talk?” Liam says shakily. Zayn really hates how sad Liam sounds already, hates _himself_ for putting him through this. He ends up shaking his head frantically for a few seconds, desperate to get Liam to understand, before he realises Liam can’t see him.

“We can’t avoid each other forever,” he admits. “And I… I don’t want to avoid you forever, if I’m honest.”

Liam laughs sadly. “I don’t want us to feel like we have to avoid each other anymore, you know? It’s been six months – _six months –_ and I… well, to put it bluntly I missed you.” There’s a horrible, almost unbearably long pause, and Zayn is well aware that there’s no way that Liam missed his breath hitching. “I still miss you,” he says eventually, and he sounds a lot smaller and younger than his twenty-three years.

“I… same,” Zayn calls through the stall, then snaps his mouth shut abruptly because he’s terrified of blurting too much too soon. He feels vulnerable and he actually likes the door being between them, but before he can get his head around why Liam speaks up again.

“I wanna talk this through, you know? Like today might not be the best day for it, and I accept that, but I, um, well, I just wanna say a few things before we leave today, if you’ll hear them. I don’t… I feel like if I don’t say them today because I might not see you again otherwise and I don’t want…”

“I’ll hear them,” Zayn replies, feeling vaguely threatened by Liam’s words even though he’s right, and then, “do we have to leave here?”

“No, no,” Liam says, then he chuckles darkly. “Might almost be easier with you behind the door if I’m being completely truthful.” That stings, but Zayn supposes he has a point. It’s why he hasn’t unlocked the door, after all. “Okay, do you wanna go first or shall I?”

“You go,” Zayn says quickly. He needs a minute or two to get all his thoughts in order, and really he’s still reeling a little from the initial shock of finally speaking to Liam after six months of stony silence and closed doors. The irony of that hasn’t passed him by.

“Okay…” Liam says slowly, and Zayn can hear him take several deep breaths. Even after months apart, his instincts still tell him to wrap Liam up in his arms and hold him through the sadness and freak outs, but now is really not the time. In fact, there’s a chance that Liam won’t ever let Zayn hold him again, and just the fleeting thought of it makes rocks drop heavily in Zayn’s stomach. But he isn’t going to _cry,_ not until he’s heard Liam say his bit. “Okay,” Liam says again after a few moments. “I guess I’ll start with the fucking kicker in all this, Zayn. I, um, well. I still really fucking love you, so there’s that.”

“What?” Zayn blurts, and without really thinking he yanks the lock back and practically flings the door open. Liam manages to avoid getting a faceful of heavy wood by jumping out the way just in the nick of time, and Zayn winces sheepishly and stands there, a thousand and one emotions racing around his head, while Liam just looks at him with a blank, sad expression. “Wait. What?”

“I still love you,” Liam says again, and he just stares at Zayn for a few unfair seconds, then shrugs. “I can’t stop loving you, and believe me, I’ve fucking tried.”

“Brilliant,” Zayn whispers, partly to Liam but mostly to himself. “Fuck. Okay.”

“Okay?” Liam says, twitching a little as he repeats the word. He keeps his face carefully neutral, and it almost makes Zayn want to step back and lock himself in the stall again. “I tell you after six months that I’m still in love with you, and all you can say is ‘brilliant, okay’?”

Zayn’s expression hardens a bit, defensive. “It’s a lot to take in, to be fair,” he says, and he _hates_ that his initial instinct here is to wrap his arms around himself and take a step back. “Because I love you too, and I spent six months convincing myself you hated me, so like… forgive me if this takes a little longer than you want it to.”

“You… you love me too?” Liam says, and his voice goes from hard to soft in a matter of seconds. It makes a part of Zayn soften a little too, but he’s still wary because he’s not getting his heart broken again today. Liam can break it tomorrow, but not here, at his best friends’ wedding. “Fuck, Zayn, I thought… I thought you were definitely over me.”

“No, wait, _what?_ ” Zayn breathes out, running a hand over his head. “Merlin, Liam, no. _Fuck,_ I’m not… I mean, I’ve spent the past few months kind of dealing with the fact that it’s gonna take me a really, really long time to be over you.” He swallows nervously. “And if we’re doing this I might as well admit I don’t really want to get over you.”

Silence reigns over the little bathroom for what feels like hours. Liam keeps his gaze firmly on the tiled floor, not offering much more than an “oh” in reply to Zayn’s confession. Zayn feels jumpy, twitchy, and he finds himself wishing again for a bottle of Stoli, or maybe even a cigarette or ten.

“You… you changed,” Liam says dumbly after a time. “You loved your hair and you, well. That’s what… what made me think, you know, what I did.”

Zayn moves his hand back to his head and laughs a little breathlessly. “I just fancied a change,” he offers with a shrug. “Doniya said it would be good for me.”

Liam nods. “You look really good,” he says, and Zayn hates just how much his heart leaps at the compliment. “I really didn’t think you could get any better looking but I guess I was wrong.”

Zayn feels himself squirm a little under the intensity of Liam’s gaze and forces himself to shrug again. “I… I feel a bit more like myself,” he admits carefully, still not sure how much of his soul he’s willing to bare to Liam again. “I was a bit lost for a while, but I feel good. I’m feeling good.”

“Good,” Liam echoes, then lets out a hollow laugh. “I, um, didn’t think this through, really. I don’t really know where this is meant to lead us.”

Zayn sighs and leans against the wall of the cubicle. “I… me neither, I guess.” He hesitates for a second, and then says, “Louis… Louis made me promise I’d speak to you today too. I think a lot of our friends are rooting for us, which is nice.” The words are out of his mouth before he has time to take note of what he’s said, and if he’s honest he isn’t sure why Liam looks so hurt all of a sudden but his stomach feels like it might drop right out of him. “Did I… is something wrong?”

Liam scrubs a hand over his face and then looks at the floor. “I just… wow, Zayn. You’re right, we really don’t know where we’re going with this.” He takes a deep breath. “I didn’t come in here to get back together with you.”

Zayn feels a little bit like he’s been slapped, and it must show on his face because Liam groans and curses loudly.

“Zayn, you broke my fucking heart,” he croaks. “I lost my boyfriend, my best friend, and every single other friend I’d made in the course of our relationship in one day. Everything turned to shit in the space of half an hour, and it’s stayed shit for six months.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and swears again. “I haven’t forgiven you, even if I do still love you. It’s not gonna work like that.”

“Your best friend was a serial killer,” Zayn says, because that’s the bit he’s focusing on here, apparently. “You lost him months ago. Don’t try and make me feel bad about that here.”

Liam stares at him incredulously. “Do you know how much of a saviour complex you have sometimes?” he asks, shaking his head in disbelief. “Because I don’t think you do.”

“I don’t have a saviour complex, Liam,” Zayn scowls. “It’s not about saving you.”

“Oh, fuck that,” Liam scoffs. “It’s literally always been about you saving me. Poor little Liam with no friends and the serial killer conspirator connections; he can be friends with my friends and he can live in my house and we can be the golden couple, blah blah blah. But the second I don’t want saving, I lose the friends, I lose the boyfriend, I lose everything. But it’s still you who everyone should feel sorry for because I’m the one who broke _your_ heart by leaving.”

“Liam, I take full responsibility for the fact I broke your heart,” Zayn says slowly, a little dumbstruck by his outburst. “I spent the entire of our relationship in a constant state of panic because I knew I had to break your heart at some point, and it was the last thing I ever wanted to do.”

“You set yourself up to break my heart the second you asked me out,” Liam says coldly. “I may have fallen in love with you, and yeah, I believe you when you say you still love me, I really do, but I don’t trust you and that’s… well. That says a lot, doesn’t it?”

“I did what I had to do,” Zayn says fiercely, raising his voice a little more than he probably should. Everything hurts. “I know it was bad, and I get that you can’t trust me at the moment, but it’s not about me trying to _save_ you. It’s about me caring about you so much that I would rather break your heart than see you dead.”

“That’s literally about saving me,” Liam screeches. “How am I meant to trust you again when as far as I’m concerned, you fell in love with me by accident, and I fell in love with the person I thought you were?”

“You fell in love with me,” Zayn all but whispers, because nothing stings quite like that. “I gave you myself. I gave you Zayn Malik. And if that’s not what you want…”

“Of course it’s what I want,” Liam says exasperatedly. “I _love you._ Don’t you get it?”

“Of course I fucking get it,” Zayn snaps back. “I love you so much my heart fucking _hurts,_ Liam. It kills me to hear you say these things, because I _fucking_ get it. I know what you’re saying is true, and that’s why I hate it. Because I hate myself for hurting you and I want you more than anything else in the whole entire world, but I get that you can’t let yourself go there again. _I get it._ ”

“I wish it was as easy as ‘I forgive you, Zayn’, though,” Liam argues, tugging angrily at his tie. “Because I’ve had some time to mull it over and get my head around it all, but fuck, Zayn, you have to understand how fucking angry I was. I was so fucking mad. I still am fucking mad.”

“I know,” Zayn says, just as heatedly. “I get it, and I know how badly fucked up. You’ve made it clear how much it hurt you, and that makes me feel awful, and for the record I am so fucking sorry. But do you have any idea how hard it was for you to walk out on me?” He sighs and pounds his fist against the stall wall. “I had been through hell and back that afternoon, and I really needed you there for me and then you…”

“What would you have done?” Liam barks. “What would you have done if, oh, I dunno, Niall told you that I been paid to ask you out?”

“I would probably have done the exact same thing as you, but that’s not my point,” Zayn huffs. “Your reaction isn’t what I’m mad about.” He can’t help but let out a long, angry sigh, and he barely restrains himself from smacking his head against the wall instead of his fist. “I was upset because I thought you were going to _die_ that day, Liam. You nearly died and then I got you back, and then you were just… I mean, I know I fucked up but some of the things you said were just… I mean…”

“I was angry,” Liam groans. “I wasn’t thinking about what was coming out of my mouth. All I could think about is, well, how hurt I was, and it made me want to hurt you, I dunno.”

“Had I not been hurt enough that day?” Zayn croaks, voice dangerously close to breaking. “Do you know what it’s like for the person that you love to… to hurt you like that?”

“Yes,” Liam answers, his voice barely louder than a whisper. They both freeze, staring each other down with pain and hurt etched on both their faces, neither sure how to react to the other’s words.

Then Zayn sighs, and does the only thing that feels right. He moves forward, opens his arms, and wraps them around Liam’s neck slowly, carefully, like he’s giving Liam a silent permission to push him away if he needs to.

But Liam doesn’t, and Zayn’s heart flutters and soars as the tight, familiar arms he came to associate with love and pure happiness wind their way around his waist and draw him in. They stand there clinging to each other for a very long time, long enough for Zayn’s knees to feel weak and his throat to go dry. Liam smells the exact same, his cologne sharp and the underlying scent that’s just _him_ homely and rich and warm. He’s strong, and warm, and so, _so_ brave, and Zayn doesn’t think he’ll ever fall in love like this again.

“I don’t want to hurt anymore,” Liam hiccups into his shoulder. “I don’t want to hurt myself or you anymore than we’ve already been hurting, but I’m not… I’m not ready to get back together, throw myself back into a relationship or anything. I’m just not.”

“I understand,” Zayn says, pulling back and resting a gentle hand on Liam’s cheek. “I… you don’t owe it to me to explain that.”

“I think I just have explained,” Liam says sadly. “I think there’s a million other horrible words I could say to you and you could say to me, but it won’t change the fact that I love you and I don’t… I don’t want to cut you out of my life completely.”

“Yeah?” Zayn asks timidly, and he doesn’t even realise he’s crying until Liam’s gentle fingers come up and brush a couple of tears from his cheeks. “Fuck, Liam, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

“I know,” Liam reassures, and just hearing him acknowledge it makes the entire world of difference to Zayn’s guilt. It’s almost as if he can feel it lift off his shoulders and float away, and he finds himself crying harder in relief. “Zayn, babe, no. Don’t cry, please, I…”

“Don’t call me babe,” Zayn blurts, and once again he’s probably focusing on the wrong thing, but his head is all over the place. “Sorry, I don’t mean… I love it when you call me babe but not now, not when we’re not…”

“No, no, I know,” Liam says, nodding hurriedly. “I’m sorry too.”

Zayn’s not sure what any of this really means, and he’s not sure where him and Liam stand, but he’s acutely aware that Liam hasn’t let go of him and doesn’t seem to want to either, so he winds his arms back around his shoulder and moves in to hug him again. When he’s not pushed away (there’s still a tiny voice in the back of his brain telling him that’s exactly what Liam wants to do), he sinks back into it and he stays there until someone walking into the toilet startles them into jumping apart.

“Oh, hi, lads- oh,” says Louis’s stepdad Dan, eyeing the pair confusedly. “You two okay?”

“H-hi, Dan, y-yeah,” Zayn stammers out, and he moves his hand to play with his hair again as he skulks back a little into the safety of the toilet stall. “You okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” Dan nods as he unzips his trousers and moves towards one of the urinals. “Just a little surprised to find you both in here, you know?”

He continues to chat away even as he pees, and the whole thing is so surreal that Zayn has to bite his lip to keep from laughing. Dan’s talking to Liam now, asking him about how he’s been, and Liam’s spluttering out complete nonsense in response. It’s hilarious, and it’s shifted the mood in the room rather comically.

It feels like forever before Dan washes his hands and walks out with a wave and a reminder that they’re not far off serving dinner. Zayn reassures him that they won’t be long, then the second the door bangs shut he takes one look at Liam and bursts out laughing. “Oh, my _Godric.”_

“I thought he was never going to leave,” Liam giggles back, laughing in that adorable way Zayn loves into the back of his hand. “Oh, fuck, that was so awkward.”

“I can’t believe that just happened,” Zayn grins, shaking his head. “That was so…”

“I hope he doesn’t go and tell Louis,” Liam suddenly says, expression going from merry to stony. Zayn stops talking. “Not… not to be a dick, but I don’t want it to get things more complicated, you know?” He smiles awkwardly and lets out a long sigh. “We aren’t getting back together, Zayn.”

Zayn’s throat feels tight, his whole body suddenly hot with panic, eyes staring at Liam unblinking. He’s quite literally lost for words, because he gets that Liam doesn’t want to get back together _now –_ that he was okay with – but he hadn’t quite gone over the possibility that perhaps Liam doesn’t want to get back with him at all, oh god, he’s going to be _sick…_

“What?” is all he manages to get out, and he knows it comes out too strangled to be casual. “But I thought…”

“Fuck,” Liam mutters, then spins on his heel and presses his hands against the sink, taking a second to himself. Zayn stands there frozen, unsure of what to do at all, before Liam catches his eye in the mirror and groans. “I can’t do it to myself, Zayn. It’s gonna take me a while to trust you again, so I can’t, like, promise it will ever happen because I don’t know if I’ll get there. I just… I don’t think it’s fair to give you false hope.”

“Oh,” Zayn says in a small voice. “Well, that’s… that is…”

“Did I… oh, shit, did you think I was gonna say yes?” Liam says, looking mortified. “No, Zayn, I…”

“I didn’t think you were gonna get back with me just like that, but I thought I had a bit more hope than that,” Zayn says honestly, wrapping his arms around himself again. “I thought… well, you said you wanted me in your life still.”

“I do,” Liam says earnestly. “I don’t want to lose you as a person, but we’re not even close to being ready to get back together, Zayn. We both know that.”

“Yeah,” Zayn breathes out sadly. “Yeah, alright.”

“We need time,” Liam says, taking a step close to him, and _fuck,_ he doesn’t look far off tears himself. “We need time, and a little time talking and being good again, and then we’ll see what happens from there, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Zayn nods, wiping at his eyes hurriedly before any tears can fall. “Yeah, okay.”

“Thank you,” Liam says quietly. “I really appreciate it, Zayn. I… yeah.”

“Yeah,” Zayn echoes. “Same. Thanks for being, well, honest. And thanks for speaking to me after all this time.”

“Oh, god, of course,” Liam says, nodding furiously. “It was… it felt right, you know? I’ve done my waiting and my being immature about it and stuff.”

“Not immature,” Zayn promises. “You were hurting. I completely understand.”

“Thanks,” Liam says. “Hey, shall we go back in?”

“Yeah,” Zayn says, and then, “hey, wait. Sit next to me at the top table, will you?”

Liam’s eyes go wide and his mouth drops open, fish-mouthing in a way that would be funny if Zayn’s heart wasn’t pounding against his ribcage. “Excuse… excuse me?”

“Sit with me at the top table,” Zayn repeats, trying not to tremble. “Please. It would mean a lot to me.”

“I… that’s a bit relationshippy, isn’t it?” Liam asks, grimacing in such an awkward way that it’s almost endearing. “I mean…”

“No,” Zayn’s quick to jump in with. “You’re one of our best friends, regardless. Louis and Harry love you and they want you to be their friend again. The only reason they stopped is because, you know, me.” He coughs. “They’re both just incredibly loyal, and they would have made sure you were okay if I, you know, hadn’t been such a wreck.”

“Zayn, I get it,” Liam says softly. “Your friends are your friends; just because they were nice to me while we were together doesn’t mean they have to speak to me when we aren’t.”

Zayn wants to say how much he knows Niall misses him, and how fond Jade and Perrie were of him all the way through. He wants to tell him how only the other night Louis had said he wishes their best lads’ Quidditch trip was still happening, and how Harry had grumbled that Liam had been an excellent addition to their little group of five because he’d brought something that was missing to all four of their friendships. But he doesn’t.

“You should still sit next to me,” is what he says instead, and he hates hates _hates_ how hopeful his voice sounds. “If you want to, obviously. But it would be really nice to have you back, you know, with the lads and all.”

“Um,” Liam says, biting at his bottom lip. “Then, um, yes, I guess. If you’re sure it’s okay.”

“I think they’d love you to,” Zayn tells him truthfully. “I think Niall and Lou in particular have missed you a lot.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Niall didn’t want to talk to me,” says Liam. “Not after how cold I was the last time he saw me.”

“When was that?”

“When I came to collect the last of my stuff. A few months ago,” Liam says. “I’ve not… well. There’s been a lot of distance between us since then.” He coughs awkwardly. “I thought if I was gonna stay friends with any of your mates it would have been Niall, but I dunno. It felt almost easier, in a sense, to push all your friends away if I was losing you.”

“Don’t do that,” Zayn says in a tiny voice. “Don’t think like that. We’re not… that’s all over now, isn’t it? We’re gonna work on being good friends again, and it would mean a lot to me if you and those three were okay again.”

Liam nods. “Of course. It would mean a lot to me too.”

“Okay,” Zayn says, and his grin widens slowly but surely, mirroring Liam’s. “Then let’s go, shall we?”

“Okay,” Liam echoes, and even though he doesn’t make a move to take Zayn’s outstretched hand or put his own on the small of Zayn’s back like Zayn half-expects him to, that’s okay. Because everything isn’t perfect, but it’s going to be. They’ll get there.

Everyone seems to be making their way to their tables as the pair enter the reception room, and Zayn panics for a split second when he sees Jade and Niall, hand in hand, stood only a table away chatting with Jake and Jesy.

“Um,” Zayn says dumbly, only loud enough for Liam to hear. He’s already terrified he’s going to fuck everything up before it’s had the chance to begin. “I, um, well. I need to just chat to Lou, give me half a sec.”

“What’s wrong?” Liam asks, but Zayn pretends he didn’t hear and weaves through the sea of people, eventually locating Louis next to Daisy and Phoebe.

“I need you,” is all he says, hand firm on Louis’s shoulder. Louis nods and tells his sisters he won’t be long, then follows Zayn a few feet to the corner of the room. Zayn realises he must look a little manic, because once Louis gets a proper look at him the first thing he does is press a hand to his forehead and another to his cheek, holding him in place.

“What did he say?” he says, worried. “Are you alright?”

“We’re not getting back together,” is the first thing Zayn says, then he winces. “Well, at least not for a while. He’s… he’s hurting still, and so am I. We both know we have some issues to iron out before we take that step again.”

Louis nods tersely. “And how are you with that?”

“I mean, I’ve felt better,” Zayn chuckles darkly. “But he has a point, hasn’t he? Neither of us are quite ready. And as much as I want him back, I’ll admit I’m not sure we could just go back into it pretending like we’re fine when we both hurt each other as much as we did.”

“I sense a but,” Louis says, folding his arms.

“ _But_ we are going to be friends,” Zayn says with a small smile and a shrug. “I love him and he… well. He told me he’s still in love with me.”

Much to Zayn’s confusion, Louis groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Is that wise?” he asks Zayn. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

Zayn shrugs again. “What I want is Liam. Pure and simple. If it takes six weeks or six years or it never happens, like, I don’t want to lose him entirely. I’m not ready for that either.”

 “I see,” Louis says, sucking on his bottom lip. “Well, okay. I’m glad you spoke with him and I’m glad you got somewhere.” He pauses and cups Zayn’s face in his hands. “You can breathe now, babe. I don’t think you’ve been breathing properly since August.”

“I need him to sit at the top table with us,” Zayn blurts. Louis’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Please, Lou, _please._ I said he could.” He gulps loudly. “And I want him to. Please.”

“Jesus Christ,” Louis groans. “Remind me to never let anyone break your heart again. It turns you into a disorganised and whiny mess.”

“Is that a yes?” Zayn says frantically, looking over to Liam, who is not so subtly watching them. “Please, Louis, I’m literally begging you here.”

Louis sighs. “There’s no need to beg, sunshine,” he tells him, then pinches his cheek rather hard. Zayn bats him away and glares. “Of course he can sit at the top table. It’s where he’s meant to sit anyway, isn’t it?”

Zayn clasps his hands together and presses them to his lips. “You’re the best,” he tells Louis sincerely. “Thank you.”

“I guess I’m the one who has to go and tell Jade she’s been usurped them?” Louis says, grinning toothily. “ _Honestly,_ the things I do for you. Will I ever get to spend any time with my actual husband on this, the day of our union?”

“Shut up,” Zayn tells him, but he’s grinning too. “I love you.”

“Love you too, you irritating little twat,” Louis replies. He throws him a wink then scurries off, and Zayn watches as he heads over to Niall and Jade and speaks to them quickly, heads bowed. He’s unusually nervous for Niall’s reaction of all people, and he isn’t surprised when Niall looks over to him, brows raised and hands on hips. Jade, however, keeps her cool remarkably well and simply offers him a happy, reassuring smile. She presses a quick kiss into Niall’s cheek and then moves forward to take her old seat next to Leigh-Anne like it’s no big deal.

Zayn really wants her and Niall to get married one day.

He moves back towards Liam slowly, a tentative hand outstretched for Liam to take if he wants. This time, Liam does, and they both seem surprised by it, almost, but neither makes the move to let go. Instead, Zayn leads Liam over to the table full of his best friends and their families, and he’s very aware just how many eyes are on the pair of them, but right now he couldn’t care less. He keeps his hand in Liam’s until they sit down in their seats, then they both sort of mutually uncurl their fingers and pointedly rest them on top of the table.

“You’re welcome,” Louis says loudly as he sweeps past, grabbing Zayn’s face and rubbing up and down his cheeks quickly before he moves round to his side of the table. He drops into his own seat and immediately curls up into Harry’s side, and everyone else coos.

“Should I be jealous of Louis holding your face like that?” Liam mutters to him. Nobody is paying them much attention because they’re so fixated with watching the newlyweds, and Zayn bites back a gleeful grin.

“I mean, it’s his wedding day,” he says quietly. “And I thought we weren’t together so there’s really nothing for you to be jealous of.”

“Right, right,” Liam hurries to say, and Zayn doesn’t even have to be looking at him to know he’s gone red. “Sure, I… I get what you’re saying.”

Zayn’s positive he’s practically glowing red right now, but that’s okay. He’s okay. Because even though he wants Liam back more than anything, he knows that now isn’t the time. Their time will come though, he knows it. You don’t just fall out of love with someone, and he knows he’s not going to fall out of love with Liam anytime soon. He can wait.

He knows that the glances he keeps stealing of Liam aren’t subtle, but neither is Liam, who keeps moving his hand to touch Zayn’s wrist or shoulder or thigh, but moving his hand away when he remembers he doesn’t do that anymore.

But he will again, Zayn’s sure of it. There’s a lot to work on and a lot of things that need to be talked about, because what Zayn did was incredibly difficult to forgive and they both know it. But they’ve got time to work it out, and after all, they’re in love. And while he’s not naïve enough to think that that’s going to save them entirely, he thinks it’s a pretty good first step.

Only time will tell.

*

Harry cries so hard through all Zayn’s speech that Louis has to forgo his own to mop up his tears. And he’s surprisingly okay with that, actually. It’s been a whirlwind of a day, emotions running high, but really his sole focus has been Harry and he thinks if he himself does a speech on just how much he loves his husband, they’ll both never stop crying.

Instead, he kisses him stupid as they cut their cake, and he gets really soppy when his mum comes over and tells them just how proud she is, and now he finds himself in the middle of the dancefloor with a mushy, incredibly corny Muggle song about having loved you for a thousand years and loving you for another thousand more (Harry’s choice, not his). He’s very mindful of just how many people are watching them slow dance (and even his mother had made a comment about them keeping it PG), but he also just needs Harry to know a few things that could end up in a lot of snogging.

It’s not his fault that that’s how he and Harry get things done.

“Do you have any idea how happy I am?” Louis asks as the song comes to a close and another equally sappy slow one starts playing. He curls his hand a little more firmly around the back of Harry’s neck, letting the smooth gold of his wedding ring press against his bare skin. “Do you have any idea how happy you make me?”

“I have a vague idea, yeah,” Harry replies, tongue poking out between his sharp teeth. He’s beaming around it, and Louis can’t believe that smile is his until his dying day. “I’m pretty happy myself, you know.”

“I guess we’re even then,” Louis teases. He rocks Harry’s body along with his slowly; just gentle steps to the beat of the music in the background. “Christ, I’m so glad you tripped over on the way to get Sorted. So fucking glad.”

“Hey,” Harry whines, pouting. Louis kisses it straight off his face with a smile. “What the hell, Louis? That’s mean. You’re mean. Why are you bringing that up?”

“It’s the first moment I noticed you, you know,” Louis grins. “I asked Eleanor and she told me your name, and for some reason I never forgot it.”

“I can’t believe you knew I’d done that all this time and you never said,” Harry grumbles. “Honestly, that was the most embarrassing moment of my entire life.”

“More embarrassing than that time your sister walked in on us with your tongue halfway up my…”

“Louis William Tomlinson, I swear to Godric…”

Louis throws his head back in a happy laugh, swaying Harry with him and then stumbling a little as he comes back up. He tightens his arms around Harry’s shoulders and kisses him soundly, messily, yet he has no intention of dialling it down. It’s his wedding day, after all, he’s allowed.

“Nobody heard, baby,” he hums once they’ve parted. “And actually, I think you’ll find I’m a Tomlinson-Styles now, so. Better get on that.”

“I want a divorce,” Harry pouts, his tufty brows furrowing adorably in the middle of his forehead. Louis roars with laughter and kisses him again, because he can and he will no matter what his twat of a brand new husband is saying.

There’s so many people in the room with them, singing bad karaoke and chatting and laughing and drinking their expensive wine, but Louis doesn’t want to talk to any of them. Not his mum, not his nan, not the friends from school he hasn’t properly chatted to in months. He doesn’t want to talk to Niall or Liam or even Zayn (though him and Liam are dancing together slowly, and he wants all the gossip on that. Tomorrow, though, it can wait until tomorrow). He doesn’t even really want to be in this room anymore. He just wants Harry. Harry in his arms, Harry in his bed, Harry in his life, Harry in him and with him and underneath him and beside him just _being_ for the rest of his life, that’s all he wants. All he _needs._

It’s everything. And it’s his.

“Harry Tomlinson-Styles and his husband, Louis Tomlinson-Styles,” Louis sing-songs against his lips. “Pleased to meet you.”

“I’m so glad you got drunk and told me you liked my hair,” Harry hums back merrily. He then dips Louis dramatically, and Louis yelps loudly and struggles for footing a little, but he trusts Harry not to drop him. “I’m glad you’re a clingy bastard in both senses of the word.”

“Twat,” Louis huffs, but straightens up and readjusts his grip so his arms are now around Harry’s back, keeping them pressed close. “Kiss me again.”

Harry leans down and brushes their noses, then moulds his lips onto Louis’s for what is probably the hundredth time that day, and probably the millionth in total. His lips are a little chapped from it all, and although Louis can taste the tang of the red wine and the champagne they’ve been consuming all day, he also has the edges of familiarity that Louis has known ever since he kissed him for the first time at the tender age of sixteen. He clings to it, folding himself even further into Harry’s arms, and dances with him until his feet start to hurt and his mouth feels bruised.

There’s something pretty fucking wonderful about knowing that this is final for them, especially after all the past year has sprung on them. Louis can’t quite put his finger on the word for the whole evening, and it only really comes to him when he’s curled up, tired and sweaty and tacky after their first romp as a married couple, on Harry’s chest, listening to the soft laboured breaths that he’s going to fall asleep next to every day for the rest of his life. The gentle irony of it makes him grin, sigh contentedly, then roll over and pull Harry’s sleepy body tighter around his.

Magic.


	11. Epilogue: Nox

**_Six months later_ **

It’s been six months of weird heartache on Zayn’s part. It’s been six months since he started to get close to Liam again, both of them awkward and slow and unsure how to be friends when they were never friends, they were always so much more. It’s been six months of Liam inviting him out for coffee, or coming over to the flat for tea with him and Niall, or drinks at the pub while Liam slowly works his way back into the friendship group.

The first month was pretty quiet for them, both a little shy and tense and uncertain of whether they were going to mention their slow dance and almost kiss at the wedding. To this day, Zayn still blames it on too much expensive fizz, and is actually rather glad they didn’t kiss because he doesn’t doubt that it would just have complicated things further. However, they both took it on the chin and seemed to accept at the same time that they weren’t talking about it, like, ever, so moved on.

The second month was still awkward, but Zayn felt more confident being the one to invite Liam out for things rather than just waiting for Liam to call him. The first time he planned to do it, he paced his flat for nearly two hours, and only ended up Flooing him when Niall threatened to Bewitch his hair green in is sleep. So he bit the bullet and went for coffee with him, and from then it was like a switch had been flicked.

“It’s nice to do this at, you know, your choice of place,” Liam had laughed, sipping his huge and extravagant Starbucks latte. Being friends with Louis, Zayn’s had a little bit more exposure to these Muggle quirks, but Liam kind of stuck out like a sore thumb. It was endearing and Zayn didn’t mind at all, even when it was obvious that everyone was staring. “I was beginning to think you didn’t want to initiate things with me.”

Zayn’s head had whipped up so fast that he got a dollop of whipped cream on the end of his nose, but he’d barely noticed. “What? _No,_ ” he’d said. “I’ve just been, like, stupid busy with all the paperwork and stuff, trying to get this case well and truly behind us.”

Liam nodded and slurped at his coffee loudly. “Fair enough,” he said with a smile and a shrug. “Regardless of all that shit, it’s really nice to be here with you. I’ve missed having you on your own.”

Zayn had just smiled, grinning around his straw.

So now it’s been six months, and Zayn _almost_ feels like he can be in the same room with Liam without having an aneurysm, wanting to cry, or grabbing his face and snogging the living daylights out of him.

Funnily enough, however, it’s Liam who kisses him first.

In his flat while he’s trying to show Liam how to cook a tagine of all things. On a _Tuesday_.

It’s burning fire, pure passion and anger and everything Zayn has been feeling and also been missing for the past year of his life. Liam is everything, and he tastes the same as Zayn remembers. He kisses back as hard as he can, letting Liam’s body engulf him like he used to love. He kisses him so hard his mouth hurts, but if he gets to feel Liam on his skin again then it’s all completely worth it.

“Fuck,” Liam hisses as he pulls back for air. His eyes are wild and his hair’s a mess already, but he can’t pull his gaze from Zayn’s mouth. Zayn unconsciously licks his lips. “Fuck, Zayn. You’re… you… I…”

“Kiss me,” Zayn begs. He feels weak at the knees, desperate for Liam now he knows what he tastes like again. “Liam, _fuck.”_

 _“_ You’re beautiful,” Liam responds with, then grabs him by the collar and kisses him breathless again. “I’m so in love with you I can barely see straight, I…”

“Liam,” Zayn moans, fingernails leaving dents in the shoulders of Liam’s expensive dragon-hide jacket, not that he gives a _shit._ “I love you too. I never stopped.”

“I know,” Liam all but whimpers against his lips. “Me too. Oh, fuck. Oh my Godric.”

“You’re beautiful too,” Zayn gasps into him, moving his hips up so he can press himself as close to Liam as he can, body to body, mouth to mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” Liam chokes out, breathless as he wraps his arms around Zayn’s back and holds him in place, moving them together like they’re two horny kids desperate for release. Zayn is so overwhelmed that the idea of anything more than bitten lips and stolen glance and the awkward, not so subtle touches they give each other happening that he almost doesn’t compute that Liam’s moved forward to suck on his neck, stubble brushing over the spot that Liam knows will drive him wild.

“Everything,” he replies, head lolling back against the wall. “Everything that kept us apart. Everything that stopped us from doing this.”

Liam laughs, merry and breathless, and then starts to kiss his way down Zayn’s chest. Zayn’s head knocks against the wall again and he grunts, moving his hands so he can cradle Liam’s head. His eyes drop closed and he lets himself get lost in the feeling of being turned on and _Liam –_ he hasn’t had sex in so long, sue him – but then suddenly the warning lights start to go off and he _freaks,_ shoving Liam away so hard and so hurried that he nearly trips over his own feet.

“Wha…” he starts to say, but Zayn’s already turning and fleeing from the room. He moves into Liam’s living room and pinches at the bridge of his nose so hard it hurts, then he starts frantically pacing. He doesn’t think standing still is an option right now.

Liam’s hand on his shoulder shouldn’t come as a surprise, nor should it really make him jump as much as it does. But he flinches away, hands raised in some kind of defeat, and Liam takes a step back.

“Zayn,” he says slowly, a little like he’s speaking to a child and not a grown man. “Babe, what happened? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Zayn says, a little too quickly. Liam sighs and rests his hands on his hips like he doesn’t believe him and Zayn groans before burying his face in his hands. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Liam tuts. “I don’t need you to be sorry. If we were going too fast again, tell me. If I was…” He sighs, defeated. “If I was out of line kissing you then tell me, _Merlin_.”

“No, fuck,” Zayn swears, shaking his head in frustration. He can’t seem to find the words. “Kissing you was… fuck, Liam; it was all I’ve wanted for fucking _months._ ”

“Then what?” Liam crows. “Because same, Zayn, I missed kissing you so much, and I want to do it again.” He risks taking a step forward back into Zayn’s space, and this time Zayn doesn’t move away. “Can I do it again?”

Hands move to cup Zayn’s face and gently draw it forward so they’re eye to eye. Zayn gulps and nods. “Yeah,” he rasps after a tense few seconds. “Yeah, I want you to.”

Liam takes a deep breath and moves in, pressing their mouths together gently. He doesn’t start to kiss him until Zayn kisses him first, soft and gentle and sweet. Zayn grabs Liam’s shoulders and lets himself melt into it, heart still racing at a hundred miles an hour, but the way Liam’s holding him and kissing him and _loving_ him now makes him feel less like he’s floating away and more grounded, more affirmed. He feels hot all over, head all over the place, but he knows Liam is there and with him and that’s all he’s ever needed, really.

“Did you just sigh into my mouth?” Liam mumbles against his lips a second later, and Zayn tenses up, but Liam just laughs. “Oh, babe. Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too,” Zayn says. He’s highly aware of how much he’s shaking, and he tries to force himself still and quiet but when Liam moves back in to kiss his cheek he ends up letting out a tiny sob. “ _Shit._ ”

“Zayn, sweetheart, fuck,” Liam mumbles, gathering Zayn up a little tighter. Zayn grips him like a lifeline and just clings while Liam moves them over to the sofa, setting them down and pulling Zayn into his lap. Zayn rests his head against Liam’s shoulder and doesn’t say much for a while, unsure of what to say at all. After a while, Liam kisses him on the forehead.

“Baby, you’re scaring me a bit,” he says lowly. “You were fine half an hour ago, but, like, me kissing you seems to have sent you into some sort of catatonic trance. I’m… I don’t _get_ it, Zayn. Talk to me.”

Zayn shakes his head. “I don’t… I don’t what to say,” he admits quietly. “I…”

“I love you,” Liam professes, bumping his nose against Zayn’s cheek. “I want to be with you.” He chuckles a little nervously. “If it wasn’t clear, this is me wanting to be with you.”

Zayn’s quiet for a couple more minutes, which he knows is a bit of a dick move, but in all honesty he isn’t sure what to say. “I want to be with you too,” he settles on. “And that scares the shit out of me, Liam, fucking _hell.”_

 _“_ Why?” Liam asks carefully, a hand thumbing gently over the back of Zayn’s neck. Zayn used to love it when he did that, still does. “When we were good we were so great, Zayn."

“I know,” Zayn tells him. He laces their fingers together and squeezes. “We’ve always been amazing, Liam, and that’s fucking terrifying to me.”

Liam’s brows furrow adorably. “What do you mean?” he questions. “We were apart for so long…”

“And yet we never stopped wanting, or caring,” Zayn says. “I never stopped loving you. We hurt each other a lot, but I hurt you and in the process I made you walk away, which is what hurt me, don’t you get it?”

There’s a pause, and then Liam says, “I’ll be honest, not really.”

Zayn wraps himself a little tighter in Liam’s hold and sighs against his neck. “I love you,” he mumbles, and tries not to blush and squirm when Liam whispers the words back. “I love you too much to want to hurt you again.”

“I know you well enough to know you never wanted to hurt me in the first place, bloody hell,” Liam chastises. “I’m not an idiot, and I’ve had loads of time to think it over – and I mean _loads_ of time. I know you’re not going to do that to me again.” He laughs, and even though it sounds a little strained, Zayn appreciates him trying to make the situation feel a little lighter. “If you’ve got any more secrets like that then I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“No more secrets,” Zayn promises. “I just love you. That’s all I have right now.”

“I… I honestly don’t know how to be more clear,” Liam says with an awkward, lopsided grin. It makes Zayn’s heart hurt with fondness. “I love you and I want to be with you again.” He shrugs. “Is that enough?”

“If you think I can be good enough,” Zayn all but whispers. “If you think I’m enough.”

“You’re literally it for me,” Liam shrugs. “I… I honestly can’t see myself loving someone else the way I love you. Even when we were apart and fighting you were all I thought about.” He laughs again, but this time it sounds a little more real. “I wanted to punch you in the way then cry into your shoulder. I remember having, like, pretty vivid imaginations about it.”

“Babe,” Zayn says quietly, then wraps his arms around him even tighter. “Babe, no, I…”

Liam kisses him, just once. Zayn barely even has time to kiss back before he’s pulling back and resting their foreheads together. “I’ve been thinking about it for six months, you know? Every day we’ve spent together, and even those we haven’t, all I’ve wanted is to kiss you. Kiss you and mark you and tell you just how much…” He cuts himself off, pressing his lips together like he’s forcing himself not to continue. Zayn nudges him gently. “Sorry. I don’t want to come off as too intense or like…”

“Intense?” Zayn asks, scrunching up his face in confusion. “This isn’t intense, Godric no.” He hesitates. “It’s, well, it’s what I needed to hear, really.”

“Is it making you feel better?” Liam asks, head moving up like a meerkat’s. Zayn laughs, nods and kisses him. “Because I’ll keep going,” Liam says against his mouth, moving his arms up to wrap around his back. “I used to fall asleep hugging a pillow every night because I forgot how to sleep without you.” Zayn groans and kisses him harder, knocking them back against the arm of the sofa. He doesn’t stop even as Liam tries to keep talking. “I wore your joggers until my sister threatened to set them on fire.”

“Same with your hoodie,” Zayn pulls back just enough to say. “Doniya threated me with eviction from my own bedroom.”

“Belle was definitely pissed with me for moving you away,” Liam says, bringing one hand forward and cupping Zayn’s chin. He strokes a slow and careful thumb down Zayn’s cheek and flips his bottom lip forward, making them both grin. “I can’t say I blame her.”

“I used your shampoo and cried when the bottle ran out.”

“I had a picture of you from the Daily Prophet stuck by my bed.”

“I ate nothing but chocolate for about two months.”

“I’ve been wearing one of your rings almost every day, but only to bed.”

“I literally shaved my head,” Zayn says, and they’re both laughing into each other’s mouths by the time they’re finished, not kissing as such but more bumping lips and noses. “Fuck, okay. We’re both crap without the other, I get it.”

“Hey, look,” Liam jumps in to say. “I’m not saying it’s gonna be perfect or anything. But even doing this is a huge fucking step – in the right direction, I hope – and just because we’ve kissed and said we wanna be together doesn’t mean it’s going to be the same as it was. We’re both still human and all.”

“True,” Zayn says. He moves up so he’s straddling Liam more comfortably, but unlike before there’s nothing sexual about this. It’s just two lovers reconnecting, slowly but surely. “And I wanna get this right, Liam. I want that more than anything.”

“Well then,” Liam hums. “Let’s start with you kissing me again, and then maybe if I’m feeling a little more open I’ll let you give me a cuddle.”

Zayn laughs and swoops back down, parting his mouth in readiness for Liam’s tongue. It’s slow and a little uncertain, but there’s a long road to walk down and they’re only at the beginning.

For now, though, this is more than enough.

****

**_Another six months later_ **

Not for the first time, an argument had broken out over breakfast at number four, Ollerton’s Nook.

Rather surprisingly, it wasn’t even started by either of the Tomlinson-Styles. It was started by Zayn.

“Should I quit my job?” Zayn asks for the fourth time that morning, pounding his fist against the hard wood of Harry and Louis’s dining table. They’ve been doing this for nearly half an hour and quite frankly, Louis still isn’t entirely sure what the fuck Zayn is on about. “I’m fucking serious, Lou, why aren’t you taking this seriously?”

“Because we both know you’re not going to quit your fucking job, babe,” Louis says, chomping his way through his huge bacon sandwich. Harry’s in the kitchen, making Zayn an egg bap and a coffee with a shot of brandy, probably. It is rather nippy outside after all, and Zayn looks like he could use it. “What’s brought this on?”

Zayn sighs and buries his face in his hands. “I love him so much, Lou,” he mumbles into his palms. Louis sets his sandwich down on the plate and wipes his fingers on his trackies before he moves forward and gently wraps both hands around Zayn’s wrist to pull them away from his face. Zayn’s eyes are red-rimmed already and Louis panics a little. He’s always been a bit shit when Zayn cries. “I love him,” he says again, and lets Louis wrap him up in a hug.

“I know you love him, darling,” Louis says, crouching down on his knees so he can hug him easier. “We all love him. But you don’t have to quit your job. You love your job.”

Zayn rubs at his eyes with the back of his hand, looking a little like a sleepy child. “We just had his final session with the memory wizard guy,” he explains, nodding gratefully as Harry sets his coffee down on the table. “Thanks, Haz. Yeah, we just finished up with the memory guy, and Liam’s pretty much right as rain now. He’s got the odd blank from his childhood, which fucking sucks, but he hasn’t forgotten anything major in close to eight months now.”

“That’s so great, Zayn,” Louis says earnestly, standing back up and leaning against the wall to listen. Harry comes back in with a steaming plate of eggs on toast and a bottle of ketchup, and Zayn takes it gratefully and sets it down in front of himself. He reaches for the salt and Louis watches as he grinds it over his breakfast painfully slowly, clearly stalling. “So what’s the issue?”

“The issue,” Zayn starts, then blows some of the steam off the top of his forkful. “The issue is that I don’t want to go back into a job now he’s safe that could potentially make him unsafe again.”

“ _What?”_ Louis exclaims, and even Harry stops slurping at his smoothie in some kind of shock. “Zayn, _Merlin,_ what are you on about?”

“I don’t want him to resent me if I stay at this job,” Zayn mumbles. He gulps. “What if he resents me already?”

“That I highly doubt,” Louis scoffs. “He loves you. You love each other. Fuck, Zayn, you’ve both been doing so good, you’ve been such a lovely couple these past few months.”

“We’ve been so good,” Zayn agrees with a hiccup. “You know how weird we were at the beginning and stuff, only calling each other boyfriends again after a few months of kissing and little dates and stuff. But now I’m, like…” He gulps, eyes wide. “I love him.”

“So you keep saying,” Louis tells him. “And he knows you love him, you daft bint. And he doesn’t resent you for your job, I’m telling you.”

“ _I_ resent me for my job,” Zayn says bitterly. “I hate the fact that it’s what forced us apart.”

“No,” Louis says loudly, firmly. “Your job brought you together. That case forced you apart. And don’t you fucking dare tell me you resent working on that case because so help me Merlin…”

“But it hurt Liam,” Zayn says quietly.

“ _Don’t,_ ” Louis says, voice hard, “because what you fucking did on that case – the position you put yourself in for all those months – you saved so many lives, Zayn. You caught that man and you bought him to justice so don’t you _dare_ fucking sit there and tell me you regret any of it.”

He exhales sharply and sinks back into his chair, grateful for Harry’s strong hand on his knee. Zayn’s playing with something in his lap and pointedly not meeting his eye.

“What I think my dear husband is trying to say,” Harry says, which surprises Louis because normally if him and Zayn are arguing Harry just lets them get on with it, “is that yeah, your job may have buggered it all up, but it wasn’t… that wasn’t just it, and again, I’m really sorry.”

“S’okay,” Zayn mumbles.

“But my point is, while it may have split you up, ultimately brought you together,” Harry says, shrugging. “Would you change those first nine months for anything?”

Zayn offers a weak shrug back. “Maybe I could do with feeling less guilty, I dunno.”

“Yeah, but aside from that you never left each other’s sides,” Harry says with a smile. “You were, well, you still are, so smitten. It’s really lovely.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Life is very short, Zayn,” Harry carries on, moving to wrap his arms around Louis’s shoulder. Louis sinks into the hold and presses a kiss into the palm of Harry’s hand. It tastes like strawberries. “Not to be all annoying and philosophical on you but I literally see people die too soon every day, or come in with awful injuries and they have nobody to turn to or anything. So yeah, it might have been rather unconventional and frankly rather shitty circumstances that brought you and Liam together, but would you change it? Would you change falling in love with Liam for anything on a completely selfish level?”

“No,” Zayn sighs after a few seconds, nibbling cautiously on his bottom lip. “No, okay, I wouldn’t.”

“Good lad,” Harry says. He starts to sway Louis to an imaginary beat, and Louis just goes with it, too interested in watching Zayn. “I think you need to stop worrying so much about what Liam might or might not want and focus on yourself for a little bit.”

“Says you,” Zayn grumbles with a dopey grin. “But maybe. I guess. Oh, I dunno, you two. I’ve just been feeling weird lately.”

“Get a tattoo,” Louis pipes up. “Let’s get one together! A really stupid, shitty best mate one.”

“Yeah, alright,” Zayn agrees, grinning. “Maybe I’ll get another piercing too.”

“That’s the spirit,” Louis winks. “Now go home, grab Liam by the balls, and tell him you’re not going to quit your job for him.”

“You’re disgusting,” Zayn says, wrinkling his nose. “And it’s not like he even asked. This is all just in my own head, I know that.”

“Well, go home, grab him by the balls and just have sex then,” Louis says, pretending to be exasperated. “Honestly, you’re interrupting mine and Harry’s naked day.”

“You’re both in clothes,” Zayn points out with an eye roll. “Harry’s clearly gone for a run and you’re obviously not doing anything active anyway.”

“Sex is active,” Harry pouts. Louis grins up at him happily and kisses his arm.

“That it is, my lovely husband,” he says dreamily. “I love having such a pretty work out buddy.”

“And on that note,” Zayn says loudly, standing up from the table and moving towards the fireplace, “I’m leaving before you start stripping each other, or worse, start doing that thing where one of you talks in that stupid voice about the other like they’re not in the room.”

“We’ll miss you,” Louis singsongs, then tugs Harry round so he plonks down into his lap before Zayn’s even Floo’d out of there. “He’s so dramatic, isn’t he?”

“Bless,” Harry says, winding his arms around Louis’s neck and readjusting himself. “He’s so fucking _gone,_ like even more than he was a year ago.”

“I know,” Louis mumbles, biting at Harry’s shoulder, and then, “so, do you wanna go and have sex?”

Harry gives him a look. “If the answer is ever no then we’ve been married for too long.”

“Oi, cheeky,” Louis says, slapping his arse to get him to stand up. “I am the apple of your eye. You will never want anything other than me.”

“Don’t I know it,” Harry smirks, then drags Louis towards the stairs.

*

Zayn takes a walk.

In the back of his mind - Merlin, not even in the back of his mind – he knows he doesn’t want to quit his job. He knew what he was heading into when he applied for the training, and he did all three years of gruelling study and the late nights and the books with the painfully small print. He’s well aware that his first case was probably his hardest, and now he’s quite content doing what he’s doing, working on the smaller case of a single murder up in Fife with Leigh and Jade. He gets home at a normal time and eats his dinner and goes to bed with Liam, then the next day he wakes up and he does it all over again. He likes it. He’s pretty sure he’s happy.

So why is he so trapped inside his own head these days? And why is he so sure he knows what Liam wants?

He and Liam have been better than ever; better even, he dares to say, than they were the first time round. They’re not officially living together but like old times, Zayn hasn’t been back to his own flat in nearing two weeks now. He’s got his half of Liam’s wardrobe back, more than one drawer in his chest of drawers, full sized bottles of his own products in the bathroom, and even a shelf in the fridge. But even more than that, they’re well into the disgusting romance stage that he used to tease the living daylights out of Louis and Harry for. Just last week he’d plucked Liam’s eyebrows for him, and when he told them Louis and Niall had roared with laughter for a full fifteen minutes.

Every single morning he wakes up next to him, and every single night he goes to sleep beside him. They curl around each other so naturally these days, whether one of them is chopping vegetables for supper in the kitchen or they’re sat on the sofa just talking or even if they go out for drinks with friends. Zayn can’t remember what it’s like not to have Liam at the end of his fingertips, and even as he moves through the bitter London streets he knows he won’t be properly warm again until Liam makes it so. He’s given himself so entirely over to this boy, and now he doesn’t know what he’s going to do because if Liam left him again he’d truly be lost. And that scares him.

The guilt that Zayn feels in the back of his mind feels like it’s increased since the pair of them got back together, and that’s scary. He knows he’s apologised more times than he can count, and he knows that Liam does forgive him (though there’s always the voice in the back of his mind constantly asking him why), yet nothing Liam says or does quite convinces him of that. And that’s a lot of the problem.

Liam loves him unconditionally, that he knows. He holds that information close to his heart, close enough not to have any paranoia of him leaving, not really. But he _does_ worry that Liam might resent him once he’s realised that Zayn will never love him like he deserves to be love, and that is pretty much the kicker in all of this.

Zayn doesn’t deserve Liam, but he has him. And _Merlin,_ is that a lot of pressure.

He walks and he walks, and it’s long since gone dark before he finds himself standing outside Liam’s flat. He lets himself in slowly, his hands too cold to move at the speed he wants, and he kicks off his boots. “Babe?”

He hears shuffling, then Liam’s smiling face pops through the doorway. The flat smells like cooking onions and garlic, and Liam looks positively radiant yet suitably comical in a red frilly apron that Harry got him as a gag gift for their friendship group Secret Santa a few months back. Zayn shrugs off his jacket and then moves easily under his outstretched arm, kissing him on the cheek in greeting.

“Hey,” Liam hums, stealing another kiss. “You’re back late.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Zayn says, lacing his hand with Liam’s in front of his shoulder. “I went for a bit of a walk.”

“But you hate walking,” Liam says, leading him back into the kitchen. It smells even better in here, all tomatoes and basil and black pepper. “I thought you were only going to Harry and Louis’s anyway?”

“I was,” Zayn admits. “But they gave me some food for thought, so I ended up walking for a bit.”

“For, like, seven hours?” Liam asks. His tone isn’t judgmental, just curious. “Weren’t you freezing cold?”

“I stopped at a couple of coffee shops,” Zayn tells him. “Had a quick pint and hot roast sandwich down at the Pig and Truffle, Floo’d back and then walked a lot.”

“Fair enough,” Liam nods, dropping Zayn’s hand to go back to the stove. He takes the lid off one of the pots and starts stirring the sauce. “Did you clear your head?”

Zayn furrows his brows. “I… yeah, a bit. How did you know?”

Liam smiles. “You only go for walks that long if something’s bothering you.” He turns his back, filling something with water at the sink before he says, “also Harry Floo’d me.”

Zayn freezes.  “Um,” he says slowly, staring straight at Liam in some kind of panic. “What?”

“I said Harry Floo’d me,” Liam says, but he doesn’t seem angry, just amused if anything.

“Which Harry?” Zayn tries for, but Liam just snorts.

“You know which Harry,” he grins, setting the pot lid back on the saucepan before making his way over to Zayn and stepping into his space, hands moving to Zayn’s hips. He thumbs over them gently, then dips forward to press the gentlest kiss on the tip of Zayn’s nose, still red from the February cold. “You’re a daft bugger, aren’t you?”

Zayn gulps. “What did, um, what did he say?” he mumbles. He knows he’s trying and failing to stall. Liam knows too, and he keeps smiling as he draws Zayn in for a proper hug.

“That you’re being silly and unreasonable to yourself, and that I need to tell you not to quit your job on my behalf.”

Zayn’s just trying to work out which of his Auror friends could help him dispose of Harry’s body, but he realises that the wrath of Louis would probably be worse than any sentence in Azkaban and he just scowls instead. “It wasn’t his place to tell you that.”

“He didn’t tell me at first,” Liam says. “He clearly wanted to protect you a bit. At first he was just telling me to love you right and to make sure you knew how much I do love you, which is a lot, by the way. It was only when I pressed a bit that he told me.”

“Shithead,” Zayn mumbles. “Both of you are shitheads.”

“Shitheads who adore you to pieces,” Liam says with a shrug. “We literally love you so much, Zayn. Harry loves you a little differently to me, granted, but the love is still there. And I’m worried about you because you still seem to think you’re the bad guy.”

“I know I’m not that bad guy, not really,” Zayn glowers, pulling back. “I mean, if we wanna talk about bad guys…”

“Yes, alright, fair enough,” Liam says. “But I thought we were moving past it all. I thought, you know, with this morning and all, getting the all clear and being told I have almost all my memory back, I thought that would be the final, like, step in putting that whole thing completely behind us.”

“I think it is,” Zayn says, squirming a little under Liam’s rather scrutinising gaze. “And I’m so proud of you for getting it all back and stuff.”

“I hardly did much,” Liam points out. “I did just have to sit there while I had spells cast my way.”

“Yeah, but…”

“But nothing,” Liam says gently, pressing two fingers over Zayn’s mouth to silence him. “I need you to promise me something.” Zayn pouts against the pads of Liam’s fingers, but he nods. “I need you to promise me you won’t quit your job.”

Zayn scowls again. “I think we both know that realistically I wasn’t going to quit my job.”

Liam smiles and licks his lips. “I think I knew that too, but I did need to hear it from you, darling,” he says softly. “Okay, but since you didn’t promise me that, will you promise me this?”

“Promise you what?” Zayn asks, neck hot and prickly. He wants to pretend this conversation never happened and eat his dinner and go back to his normal, domestic life. “I don’t understand wha…”

Liam kisses him. He’s soft and careful and he tastes like Bolognese, and he licks into Zayn’s mouth like he can’t get enough. Zayn’s surprised sound is drowned out easily and he has to grip Liam’s shoulders almost painfully hard to keep himself upright. It’s a pretty good kiss considering he wasn’t expecting it, and when Liam pulls back his eyes are shining with something that makes Zayn’s breath hitch.

“Promise me that,” he says a little breathlessly. “That even if you’re worried or scared or having a bad day about whatever, that you know that.”

“Wha…?”

“I don’t need to know everything that goes on in your mind,” Liam goes on. “But I need you to know that if you’re feeling down or you’re scared I’m going to leave you or whatever, I’m _not._ I’m here to stay.”

Zayn can’t think of what to say, and when he does manage to find his voice he manages to make a tit of himself. “This is your flat.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Liam shouts, but it’s not angry. He’s laughing as he moves forward to kiss Zayn again. “I love it when you use humour as a defence mechanism.”

“I love you,” Zayn breathes out, and he shrugs. “I just love you, Liam Payne.”

“Good,” Liam says, nuzzling their noses together and grinning. “I love you too, Zayn Malik.”

“Even though I’m a…”

“I don’t give a Hippogriff what you think you are or aren’t,” Liam says firmly. “You’re my baby, and nothing else really matters as long as you love me.”

“Cheesy fucker,” Zayn says with a blush, biting his tongue and turning Liam’s face away. “You’re terrible.”

“Yeah, well,” Liam says, sticking out his own tongue. “I’ve got a headful of memories, a pretty fucking beautiful boyfriend, and my favourite tea cooking away in my kitchen. I could take over the fucking world right now. What more do I need?”

Zayn bites down anything he wants to say, because when Liam says it like that it does put it in a perspective that he could get on board with. He’s got the life, he’s got his man, and yes, he does have a few issues he needs to iron out, and he’ll work on them. But the next time Liam says “I love you,” Zayn replies with “I know” first and foremost, and that’s a lot for him. Ultimately, the worst has come and gone. He’s certain good things lie ahead as long as he’s got Liam by his side.

They kiss again, a little longer and deeper than the last, then together they walk back into the kitchen, ready for an evening of food and each other’s company.

****

**_Thirteen years later_ **

“Louis!” the call echoes throughout the house. “Louis, get here now!”

Louis looks down at the changing table in front of him, watching fondly as baby Cassie flails her little limbs out. “What on earth does your Papa want, eh?” he asks her, lifting up her legs so he can slide a clean nappy under her hips. “He sounds _real_ mad.”

“Louis William Tomlinson!”

“Christ,” Louis mutters, shaking his head. He tapes the nappy in place and pulls a funny face at her, which makes Cassie squeal delightedly and wave her pudgy little arms around. Scooping her up, he balances her on one hip as he tosses her old dirty nappy into the magic fire they had installed. It disintegrates instantly, and Cassie shrieks at the hissing noise it makes.

“Yes, magic, isn’t it?” Louis tells her, his grin as wide as his daughter’s. “You’ve got so much to look forward to, little love.”

“Louis, for the love of Gryffindor…” the voice screeches through the house again.

“I am changing our child,” Louis calls back, voice dripping with sweetness. “Can it wait two minutes for me to put her down to bed?”

“No,” comes the indignant reply, then Louis hears footsteps thundering up the stairs.

“Brace yourselves,” Louis mutters to Cassie, seconds before Harry bursts into the room. He looks stressed and rather tired, eyes wide and hair all over the place.

“Louis,” he says for the hundredth time, voice breathy and low. He sounds really quite cross and Louis almost takes a step back. “I told you not to let her play with it.”

“Play with what?” Louis asks, tilting his head to one side questioningly. “Which child are we talking about?”

“We are talking about Willow losing the wand that _you_ allowed her to play with somewhere in this cramped, overcrowded house,” Harry says through gritted teeth. “Which is _fine,_ because it’s not like she’s going to start school in the morning _or anything._ No big deal at all. _”_

Louis rolls his eyes and adjusts Cassie on his hip. “Have you been shouting at me for ten minutes so I come and shout at her?”

“Well, what am I meant to do, Louis?” Harry almost yells. “What if we can’t find it before her train tomorrow? What if the dog’s gotten to it and snapped it? What if…?”

“What if you shut up a minute and let me deal with it?” Louis sighs, unable to fight the urge to roll his eyes again. “Let me put Cassie down first, yeah?”

“Fine,” Harry says, crossing his arms and strolling over to the other side of the room without another word. He starts rummaging in the chest of drawers for a fresh set of pyjamas for Cassie while Louis tuts and carries her back over to the changing table, where he sets her back down on her back.

“You need to calm down, love,” he tells him, sliding Cassie’s tricky little legs into the onesie and buttoning it on her. “I know you’re stressed about making sure she’s packed and everything but she’s a big girl. If she’s lost it she’s probably hunting for it.”

He hears Harry sigh next to him, and he reaches out and gently strokes over his hip reassuringly. “Lou,” Harry says after a couple of seconds, after Cassie is dressed and ready for bed. “I’m sorry, I’m just…”

“Hey, I know,” Louis says. He turns to face his husband and pats his cheek. “I feel it too. You’re not the only one freaking out here.”

Harry groans. “Can I put her down?” he asks. “I need a cuddle from my baby girl.”

Louis hands her over easily, and Harry kisses her on the nose before he cradles her in his arms for a minute. The sight is still enough to make Louis’s heart clench a bit, and he watches fondly as Harry begins babbling some nonsense that makes her giggle and reach out for her Papa, wrapping one of her tiny fists around just one of Harry’s long fingers.

“Bet you can’t wait until she’s old enough for you to read again,” Louis says softly, face fond at the memory. When Willow was younger, reading to her in the evenings was a big thing for both of them, but Louis particularly used to love how into it Harry would get, with a different voice for every character and sometimes even audience participation. Willow had fucking loved it, and Louis can’t wait to see Cassie’s reaction to her Papa reading some of their old favourites.

“I really can’t,” Harry admits. He rubs his thumb over the little tuft of Cassie’s hair and grins at her stupidly. Cassie cackles some more. “But also I don’t want her to grow up. They’re all growing up too fast.”

“That’s very true,” Louis says solemnly. The fact that Willow is already old enough to start Hogwarts is frankly rather baffling. “But alas, there isn’t a spell for that.”

Harry shakes his head sadly. “Mum’s coming to collect this one at eight tomorrow, by the way. So we are actually coming home to an empty nest. Honestly, I can’t imagine anything worse.”

“Oh no, however will you cope being alone with your husband without the kids there to distract you?”

Pouting, Harry shakes his head and then kisses Cassie’s forehead once more. “I should go and apologise to Willow, shouldn’t I?”

“You should,” Louis says sternly, curling up close to Harry and kissing his daughter goodnight in turn. “She doesn’t need to feel guilty like this the night before she goes away for a few months.”

“You’re right, I’m a twat, I’m sorry,” Harry sighs, setting Cassie down in her cot and tucking her in. They stay pressed close together, watching ever so fondly as her little lashes flutter shut and she lets out a content sigh, her fist curling around the little stuffed rabbit they keep in her cot. Louis casts _Nox_ and all the lights in the room fade out, aside from the one lamp in the corner they always make sure to keep on for her overnight.

“Right, come on you,” Louis says, tugging on Harry’s wrist and guiding him down the hallway to Willow’s room. He raps his knuckles against the door but it isn’t closed, so he pokes his head carefully around the side. “Willow, love?”

“Dad?” he hears her voice say and all of a sudden her head appears from under her duvet cover. “Dad, I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, buttercup,” he says, pushing the door open all the way and yanking Harry in with him. “Have you found your wand?”

“No,” she says, and her bottom lip starts to tremble. “What if they don’t let me into Hogwarts because I can’t find it, Dad?”

Glaring at his husband over his shoulder, Louis drops down onto her bed and peels back her duvet. He holds out an arm and she hesitates, but eventually scrabbles out and tangles herself in his hold. “Now then,” he says, kissing her hair and adjusting her in his lap, because she might be eleven but she’s never too old for cuddles, “your Papa tells me you’ve misplaced your wand.”

“I did, I’m sorry,” Willow is quick to say, but Louis shushes her.

“Is it definitely in the house, love?” Willow nods. “And is everything else definitely packed?” She nods again. “You definitely didn’t pack it by accident or something?”

“I don’t know,” Willow tells him. “I don’t think so, but I don’t want to unpack everything to check.”

“That’s fair enough,” Louis says. “Say, remind me where you’re going tomorrow?”

Willow furrows her brows, and even Harry looks completely baffled by his question. “Um, Hogwarts?” she answers hesitantly.

“That’s right,” Louis nods, “and remind me what they teach you at Hogwarts?”

“Um,” Willow says, eyeing him sceptically. “Magic? How to make potions? Things like that?”

“Precisely,” Louis nods. “And there’s this handy little spell that they teach you in – I think it’s your third year? Really useful spell, it is, it basically means you can summon anything you want to you.” Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Harry’s shoulders slump a little bit and he can’t bite back his grin. “Would Papa like to demonstrate this spell?”

Harry mouths something that is probably really rude, but Louis is too busy smirking with his daughter to work out what it is. In the end, Harry disappears out of the room and comes back a few seconds later with his own wand in his hand. “ _Accio Willow’s wand,_ ” he casts grumpily, and the wand rolls out from under her bed and settles at Harry’s feet.

“You see?” Louis says cheerily, holding out his hand for Harry to hand him the wand. “You’ve just had your first magic lesson, courtesy of your fathers.” He presses another quick kiss into her hair. “Say thanks to your Papa for that.”

“Thanks, Papa,” she says, smiling sheepishly.

“Good girl,” Louis says. “Just make sure you keep a hold of it from now on. We won’t always be there to save your bum at school, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “I’ll be more careful, I promise.”

“That’s my buttercup,” Louis says, bopping her on the nose. “Have you had your bath yet?”

Willow shakes her head. “No, I wanted to find my wand first.”

“Off you go then,” Louis says, patting her back and untangling her from his hold. “Come downstairs after, I’ll make you a hot chocolate.”

Willow nods gratefully and rushes to get her towel, only to come running back to give Harry a huge hug. “I’m so sorry, Papa,” Louis hears her mumble. “I didn’t mean to make you mad the day before I go.”

Harry sighs and wraps her up in his arms. “It’s not your fault, pumpkin. I’m just a bit stressed about you leaving. You’re my baby, I’m gonna miss you so much.”

“Cassie’s your baby,” Willow blinks up at him.

“But you’re my first baby, which makes you very special to me,” Harry says softly, and his voice cracks in a way that Louis knows rather well. “I’m not… I’m not ready…”

“Hey, we can have all the cuddles in the world later but you need to have your bath, love,” Louis says, walking over to her and ruffling her hair. “Come on, spit spot.”

As Willow trudges down the hallway to their bathroom, Louis steers Harry into their bedroom and shuts the door behind them. Harry flops down onto the edge of the bed and Louis stands in front of him with an arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“Hey,” he murmurs, using his free hand to brush Harry’s hair from his eyes. It’s not as long as it once was, thinner and perhaps a little further back, but Louis will be loathed if he ever lets Harry cut it properly short. “I don’t wanna nag, not on a night like tonight, but please don’t take your frustrations on Willow leaving out on her like that.”

“I know, I know,” Harry groans, resting his head on Louis’s sternum and taking several deep breaths. “I’m just… she’s _leaving,_ Lou. She’s my baby and she’s leaving me tomorrow and I can’t do it.”

“You _can,_ love,” Louis assures. He reaches down to cup Harry’s face, and when he pulls it up so they’re looking at each other he sees Harry’s eyes are shiny and wet with unshed tears. “Oh, baby, don’t you cry. You’ll set me off, for a start.”

“She’s my baby,” Harry repeats wetly, and suddenly Louis is being yanked into a bone-crushing hug and Harry’s properly crying now, his long body shaking as he weeps. “I don’t want her to go, she _can’t,_ Lou.”

“She can and she is,” Louis says, squirming a bit to try staying standing in Harry’s vice grip. “Harry, she’s going to be fine. We’re both going to cry like babies tomorrow, and the house is going to feel horribly empty for a few weeks but we’ll have her back for Christmas!”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Harry wails. “I don’t want her to gooo!”

“I know, love, I know,” Louis says gently, cradling Harry’s head to his chest as best he can. “You big old sappy thing.”

Harry sniffs a bit pathetically and rubs his snotty face into Louis’s front. Louis squeaks and tries to pull back, but Harry has him in a firm hold and they end up toppling backwards onto the bed, head-butting each other as they land.

“You’ll wake the baby,” Louis hisses, rubbing at his scalp. “Honestly, you’ll have nobody left at this rate because I’m fucking leaving if you do that again.” Harry’s bottom lip starts to wobble and Louis’s eyes go wide. “ _Harry_. Sweetheart _,_ I’m _joking._ ” He wraps his arms around his neck and presses him to the pillow, kissing him on the cheek as he goes. “Please don’t cry again.”

“I can’t help it,” Harry whines, and a fresh batch of tears starts falling. “I’m going to miss her so much, Louis, I just…”

“I know, I know,” Louis soothes again. “Come on, up you get. Let’s get you downstairs and drinking cocoa. God knows I’m raising three children here. We can have lots of cuddles with her and then just be a bit more ready for tomorrow, okay?”

“Won’t make it better,” Harry grumbles petulantly, but he sits up and lets Louis dab at his face with a bit of tissue. “And ‘m not a child.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “No, love, you’re not a child. You’re a grown man who is crying more than our nine-month old has all day.”

“I’m sad,” Harry complains, but Louis cuts him off with a quick kiss, pressing their damp lips together and pulling back just as quickly.

“Enough, I say,” he teases, bopping Harry on the nose and pulling back. “Cocoa?”

“Cocoa,” Harry echoes, the ghost of a smile there now, and he obediently follows.

*

“And don’t forget to brush your teeth,” Harry tells her hurriedly. “Twice a day, you promise me.”

“I promise,” Willow says, but it’s clear she’s not really listening to her Papa’s babbling. Instead, she throws herself in Harry’s arms and clings to him. Harry’s definitely about to start crying, so Louis decides to intervene.

“You can’t have your goodbye hug without me,” he cries, snaking under Harry’s arm and wrapping his own tightly around Willow’s shoulders. “Mmmm, my biggest baby.”

“Daddy,” Willow croaks, and hangs onto the front of his shirt so tight Louis panics for a second that she’s ripped it. “Daddy, I’m going to miss you so much.”

“I’m going to miss you too, my buttercup,” Louis sniffs, and _Godric,_ he’s going to cry like an idiot on the bloody train platform. “I love you stupid amounts, little one.”

“So do I,” Harry weeps from above them. The three of them stay clinging to each other until the train whistle blows, and Louis has to force himself to step back.

“Hey, little Willow tree,” he says, trying to smile through his tears. “You’re going to be amazing, I hope you know that.” Willow shakes her head and tries to wipe her tears away with the back of her hand, but Louis stands firm. “No, you _are,_ I promise. You’re brilliant and you’re going to have so much fun. I’ve been there, I know these things.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis nods surely. “Papa and I met at Hogwarts, did you know that?”

“Of course I knew that, Dad,” Willow giggles wetly.

“Alright, alright, of course you did,” Louis says. He bends down on his knees and puts both his hands on Willow’s shoulders. “But that’s also where I met Zayn, and where Zayn met Liam, and where Papa met Niall, and where Niall met Jade, and where we all met Auntie Perrie and Leigh and Stan and Jesy and Jake.” Willow keeps staring at him blankly. “My point is, buttercup, you’ll find best friends who you wanna be friends with forever there. Pretty soon you won’t wanna come home to Papa and I.”

“That’s not true,” Willow says fiercely, and throws her arms around his neck again. “I wanna come home _now._ ”

“No, you wanna go to Hogwarts, I promise,” Louis says, and forces himself to disentangle their hug. “Come on, love, you don’t want the train to leave without you.”

Rather reluctantly, Louis nudges her towards the train door and after some last rather watery hugs and kisses from both him and Harry, she disappears into a compartment and out of sight. After only a few seconds, the train whistles and the doors all fold closed, and then the train chugs away and out of the station. It’s barely out of sight before Harry loses it, grabbing hold of Louis and crying into his shoulder. Louis tries to keep it a bit more together, mumbling what he hopes is soothing nonsense into Harry’s ear and rocking him gently, but he’s vaguely aware that they’re making something of a scene so he tries to walk Harry back and towards the exit.

“Need a bit longer,” Harry sniffs, going easily when Louis drags him into a corner. The pair wave as a few people they know walk past – mostly familiar faces from their time at Hogwarts – but stay pressed close, Louis’s hand rubbing up and down Harry’s back in what he hopes is a comforting manner.

Once they’re some of the last people on the platform, Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s middle properly and tilts his head back to look his husband in the eye. “You okay, baby?”

“No,” Harry grumps, fingers playing with the hairs on the back of Louis’s neck. “I miss my girl. She’s been gone five minutes and I already feel like the shell of a man.”

“She’s going to be fine,” Louis promises. “Hogwarts isn’t ready for her, if anything. How much fun did we have when we were there?”

“Too much fun,” Harry notes. “I don’t know if I’m ready to think about her having the kind of fun that we had at Hogwarts.”

Louis makes an indignant kind of noise and covers Harry’s mouth. “And I’m not ready to hear you suggest it, you fiend.”

Harry licks Louis’s palm and Louis wipes it down his face. Harry sticks out his tongue and Louis tries to bite at it, and they end up getting kicked off the platform by a guard because they start snogging before they can take in that they’re the last people on the platform.

With hands clasped between them, they exit the platform and move back into the main floor of Kings Cross, where they find Liam, Zayn, Niall, Jade, Perrie, her husband Charley, and their selection of kids between them. There’s a collection of whoops and cheers when they appear and they end up tangled in hugs from all sides, kids hanging off legs and best friends pressing kisses into cheeks.

“How was that?” Zayn asks, tangled under one of Harry’s arm. “Was that the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do?”

“The literal worst,” Harry whines, resting his head on Zayn’s shoulder. “I don’t want to do it again. I don’t want you to have to do it. It’s like handing a limb over to the Hogwarts Express.”

Louis snorts. Harry glares at him. “What? I was there, I know how it feels.”

“I just can’t imagine them ever getting old enough for us to have to do that,” Liam says. He reaches down and ruffles his son’s hair, which makes four year old Rohaan squeak and try to run away. Liam catches him by the wrist and tugs him back with a roll of his eyes. “You see? He’s going to be forever a toddler, he’s got to be.”

“Babe, it doesn’t work like that,” Zayn says fondly, unwinding himself from Harry and sidling over to the pair. He wraps an arm around Liam’s back and waggles his eyebrows at Louis playfully. “Do you feel old then, Lou?”

“Majorly,” Louis says, carefully flipping him off over the heads of the children. “It’s bizarre, really. Feels like only yesterday it was us lot here.” He turns to Harry. “Remember the year I managed to bend you over in the boy’s toilets?”

Everyone groans and breaks apart, and Louis smirks as Harry blushes and hides his face in Louis’s hair. He winds an arm around his waist and bumps himself up on tiptoes so he can kiss his cheek.

The best part, Louis notes merrily as they trudge out of the station, is that even after all this time, very little seems to have changed. Nothing will ever beat having Harry by his side as his boy, and though his hair is shorter and a little greyer, it’s still clearly the same boy he fell in love with all those years ago. He’s wonderfully aware that the person next to him, the one he’s going to fall asleep next to and the one he’s going to wake up next to every morning is never going to change, and even though he’s known it for years just thinking about it in those terms makes him squirm and blush.

And on top of that, there’s Zayn and Liam. Zayn and Liam, who did take a long time to heal, but fell back into each other so naturally afterwards that it’s hard to believe that they spent so long apart. Zayn and Liam, the relationship that Zayn nearly quit his job for, the relationship that Liam didn’t want to leave despite how many times Zayn himself told him he should. Zayn and Liam, who still haven’t gotten married because they don’t see the need, but have the most beautiful son and have another on the way. Zayn and Liam, who are possibly just as, if not more, concrete than Harry and Louis, and who Louis could not be prouder of.

Then there’s Niall, father of five kids under ten and parent extraordinaire. Honestly, Louis envies him because he’s so laid back and such a good parent without trying that it’s almost laughable, having known the lad when he was a teenager. But him and Jade make an incredible couple, solid as a rock, and being parents doesn’t seem to have aged or fazed them at all.

But one of the things he loves most, he must admit, is how they all know to end up at the pub.

Because at the end of the day, they’ve still got each other and their little traditions and their quirks and their universal need to have a pint when times get a little hard, even for just one or two of them.

All was well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THIS IS IT! it's over, it's done, it's complete. this has been such a ride and I just want to give a million and one thanks to three very special people.
> 
> Nika - my best friend, my cheerleader, my muse, my everything. this fic would be nothing without you. I love you, thank you for the hours of listening and ironing out plotholes and dealing with the whining and the beta'ing and pretty much everything. you're a gift and you're my favourite<3
> 
> Nicole - the best beta I could ask for, an angel, a star. I'm so glad you came along to help me with this and I literally don't know where it would be without you. I'm sorry I never killed Harry Potter off like you wanted though x
> 
> Sasha - my Potterpick, my sunshine, the brightest beam of light. you helped more than you'll ever know and i'm so grateful x
> 
> anyway, thanks for reading! please comment and leave kudos and come and shout at me on my tumblr (lillourry.tumblr.com) if you want. All the love, E x


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